The Rise of Morbius
by Overseerneversleeps
Summary: Sarah Jane and The Doctor find themselves in a race against time when the mad Time Lord, Morbius, returns from the dead. As he weaves a sinister plot to erase The Doctor's timeline entirely, they must dodge Dalek death-squads, and The Great Intellegence's murderous henchmen on their path to stop him. Part five of "The Twelfth Hour" series.
1. Lazarus

_(Hello friends new and old. Welcome to The Rise of Morbius! This is the fifth full story in my Twelfth Hour Series, and although it would undoubtedly helpful to read those before it, I will do my best to explain important events for those who have not. I have wanted to write this story for a long time. The Fourth Doctor episode, Brain of Morbius is my favorite classic Who story, and I wanted to bring Morbius into the new era, for those familiar with him, and those who have never seen him, to enjoy. This one is going to be a wild ride Outlaw Gentlemen and Shady Ladies. Buckle up)_

The landscape of Karn was desolation. Though long ago it had been a colony planet of the Time Lords, it was now a graveyard for ships. Spread upon the surface for miles were crashed spacecrafts, their wreckage scattered and tossed haphazardly through the fog beset valleys. Mountain's had crumbled in their wake, deep scars ripped in the ground through their terrible decent.

Among this rubble, lay what remained of Morbius. His body was broken, more so than it had already been to begin with. Created through scavenged body parts, all that truly remained of the mad Time Lord, was his brain. He had stolen every other part, creating a truly terrifying visage.

His torso was covered in a thick hair, like that of a mangy bear, connected to a mismatched pair of legs, that corresponded with neather tone nor size. One arm ended in the hand of a human, while another in the claw of a massive crab. Both were now mangled, the claw nearly torn from the body. Stitchmarks crisscrossed him, intermingled with staples, and melted flesh.

His unnaturally-long neck led to a clear fish-bowl like head. Created of glass, one could see the pulsing brain within. The glass had been shattered, and what was whole was crosscut by cracks and chips. The eye stalks that once protruded were warped and bent, no longer resembling what they once were.

All of this was caused by a momentous fall. The Sisterhood of Karn were his murderers. From the cliff they had flung him; a hunderd foot drop. A fall no one could survive, no mortal man.

A man, Morbius was not. A sick amalgam of alien refuse; a body built by a mad scientist. But it was a body built to last, built to survive.

He could not see. He could barly think. He had to force his lungs, lungs stolen from a Birastrop, to take each laborious breath. He could feel his alien ribs prodding them; even his own broken bones now wished to end him.

He could not feel his legs, but pain throbbed through his upper torso. He tried to move his arms, electrical agony racing down his spine. No movement to be had. Complete paralysis. Yet still, his will to survive was strong.

"Rise," he thought, the only word that would come to his dying mind. He tried to speak it, but no words came; only an electronic moan. "Rise"

"My, my, aren't we the ruined monster. How far the Time Lords have fallen," a voice echoed in his head, followed by a light chuckle. It was soft like silk, but wreathed in shadow.

"Rise!" Morbius screamed in his head, his single thought in is dying brain.

"Oh no, you wont be doing any of that, not without my help. Is that what you want Morbius? Someone to help you?"

"H... hel... help me..." he tried to think. Clouded was his mind. Another moan came from his brain-case.

"I will, I will do just that," the dark voice whispered, "but first... who is responsible for this? Who has done this to the great, powerful, terrible, Morbius?"

"Sis... sister...hood," his broken thoughts continued to dim.

"Oh yes, they committed the act, but who is the real culprit? Who told them of your plan, defeated you, and ruined your new body? Who?"

"Doct... Doctor..." that thought... was clear. The Doctor... his vanquisher.

"When I help you, I expect you to do something for me," the voice replied, calm, and soothing to the dying beast "I want you to destroy The Doctor. Not kill him. Destroy him utterly. Make me this deal, and I will restore you."

"Ye.. yeeesss," he thought. His mind went blank, his breathing beginning to slow.

Anguish. The burning pain ripped into him, like none he had felt before. The darkness turned to a white light.

Before he knew, Morbius was looking out across the devistated landscape; the field of debris. Breath filled his lungs. He had lungs! His eyes inadvertently blinked. Eyes... not metal stalks. Eyes.

He looked down, realizing he was standing, on a pair of normal legs. They were clothed in rags, yet they were legs the same, his bare feet perfectly formed.

He staggered forward through Karn's constant mist, his first pair of clumsy steps on his new legs. Stabbing pains ran up his calves, and thighs, and he stumbled to a stop. He raised his arms, shaking, his hands coming to his face.

Actual hands, with fingers, and palms, not a mutanigenic crab claw like his last, only good for choking, and crushing. He made a hard fist.

He took note of his new flesh's tone. It was a stark white, like a human albino. He didn't care... a body, he had a body.

His fingers and hands brushed his face. Nose, eyes, lips, cheeks. He clacked his teeth together, and wiggled his tounge.

"A body! Restored!" He shouted aloud. He noted his voice, deep in pitch, and melodious.

He saw a puddle of standing water near by, and stumbled to it. He was already beginning to regain control of his appendages. He fell to his knees before the muddy pool, and stared at his reflection.

He first noted his eyes; deep set, and oval shaped. The pupils burned orange, like hot coals. His nose was long, and crooked in the middle, as though it had been badly broken many times, and his thin lips looked as though they sneered even with no expression present. A long scar bisected his entire face, from above the left eye to the right side of his chin. Unattractive, not that it bothered him.

He was completely bald, and his white complexion was even more obvious, far beyond that of an albino as he had believed. This body appeared to be around twenty eight by Human standards; but who could say with those banal primates.

He examined his torso, finding himself pleased. He was very lithe, and muscular. He noted more scarification across his chest, and down his abs, ridged up like a spider web.

"Are you pleased with your new form, Morbius?" The deep voice behind him asked. He turned around to face his savior.

At first he saw nothing, but his eye caught the shadow floating in the air. It was vaugely human in shape, though no features could be concretely discernd. He thought he may have spotted voluminous hood surrounding it's head, though with an incorporal creature, it was hard to tell.

"Immensely. You have my gratitude," Morbius replied, "the favor of Morbius is the envy of all who have stood before me."

"I care not for your favor," the shade returned shapely, "only that your end of the bargain is held up."

"I shall kill The Doctor, and all the Time Lords shall pay for his transgression," Morbius agreed through gritted teeth.

"Much has occurred in your absence. The Time Lords are gone. Destroyed. All, but The Doctor" Morbius smiled at that. How could that have happend? What glorious catastrophe must have occured for them to be annihilated. He hoped they were hunted down like the swine they were. No death was too painful.

"And you are not to kill him, you are to destroy him, completely."

"Semantics," the Time Lord shrugged, "but you obviously have something in mind."

"There is a weapon, one that had been thought destroyed in the war that ended the Time Lords. The Epoch Lens." Morbius had never heard the name. Much time had passed since his death indeed.

"It was broken into four pieces, the first of which I know the location of. You will find it, and the remaining pieces, and you will destroy The Doctor with it." The shade had an edge to it's voice, stinking of desperation beneath the blasé.

"What is so unique about this weapon? Why can I not just murder him another way?" He could imagine the multitude of ways. Electrocution perhaps, or gutting as one would a fish, so that he could watch himself die.

"It is the last remaining De-mat rifle, and even surpassed those that existed when the Time Lords lived." The cruel grin returned to Morbius' face. The technology of his people, power over time itself.

"You do not wish for me to kill him, you wish him erased, as though he never existed at all." He liked that idea. Liked it more, and more. The ultimate punishment for a meddler such as him, for all of his work to be for nothing. It was... poetic. That was the beauty of De-mat weapons, they didn't kill, they tore the victim from the timeline completely, as though they never existed.

"Yes," replied the shadow.

"This is a nice story, I must say. But what incentive do I have besides vengeance? Why not torture The Doctor until he loses his mind? Why should I not reap my vengeance?" Pain, he preferred the way of pain, before poetry.

As quickly as his sentence finished, a black tendril shot from the shade, reaching into his chest. Crippling agony entered his pair of hearts, doubling him over.

"What I give, I can easily take away," it replied. Morbius sucked in his bereath sharply.

"I understand."

"This body is temporary," it continued, unrelenting, the agony twisting, "the pain you feel when you walk, move, talk...will persist. It will get worse. Until you die."

"It is..." he began but was interrupted by his own involuntary moan of pain. "Counterproductive to not make me whole. How am I do do what you ask if I am on borrowed time."

"It is the best I can do with what power I have left." The tendril recoild, the pain fading, and Morbius fell to his knees, chest heaving. "The Doctor and his pets have stolen my power. You are not the only one to benefit from him never existing."

"So you are saying I will not have been killed, and there by, retreve a perminant form, and you will not lose your powers. A mutual partnership," he breathed, rising to his feet. If that was the case, he could continue his work, uninhibited.

"Now we see eye to eye." it cooed.

"I agree to your terms." It was an offer he could never turn down; there would be no one left to stop him. No Doctor, no Time Lords. It appeared he had died, and gone to heaven.

"I did you a kindness, and retrieved your TARDIS from it's burial ground on Klurikon. It is atop the cliff from which you fell. I have taken the liberty of programming your destination."

"I will need to make a few... detours before I begin my search." He was already formulating a plan, hands twitching at the thought.

"Do what you must to complete your task, but do not linger to long, both of our lives depend on it. I will be in touch." As abruptly as it appeared, it vanished, fading as a shadow did when the sun devoured it.

Morbius stood alone. He took his first few, painful steps farward.

"The time of The Doctor is over," he muttered aloud, "The rise of Morbius has begun!"

* * *

The aqua tinged planet was naught but a blur as the TARDIS spun by. Traveling at a speed that most certainly broke every space-travel guidline in existence, the bright, blue, police box tore it's frantic trail through the stars. Were one to look behind it, they would soon understand why.

Dwarfing the man-sized time machine, was an enormous saucer. The size of a small planet, it gave chase, it's dark metal ever illuminated by a rotation of yellow lights, and green cannon fire. The Dalek Command Ship, better known as "Davros' Eye" struck fear into the hearts of even the most ruthless across the universe. Including the pair being pursued by it.

The main console room of the TARDIS was bustling with activity. The mostly-circular chamber was lit with it's ever present, dark blue glow. It was tinged by the orange time roater in the center, suspended from the ceiling. Though it usually bounced rhythmically when in transit, it now jostled, and shook rapidly up and down in it's glass case, reflecting the chaos outside.

The complicated, octagon console that surrounded it would be confusing to anyone unfamiliar with it. One would find all manner of levers, and switches. One section held a full keyboard, while another various knobs with unreadable labels, with a screen on an arm above it all, able to be pulled, and yanked wherever the pilot needed it.

One would even find a strange metal head, created of a silver ore. It was partially corroded on one side, with a strange patchwork of metal across the damaged section, blocking out one of the glowing eyes. The handled-shape was familiar to many across the universe, though they would never expect such a thing to be wired directly into a machine like this by the neck.

The machine's pilot was a blur of activity as he, and his companion, ran from the murderous ship outside. He nervously brushed back his grey spines of hair with his hand, his intense blue eyes focused on his work. His angry, grey eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, his hooked, wrinkled nose dripping with sweat. His long fingered hands worked furiously, pulling levers, and pressing buttons as his tall form hunched over the console. He abruptly bolted around the other side, his thick boots stomping on the metal floor. As he moved, he rolled back the sleeves of his black, Victorian-style jacket, and loosened the collar of his buttoned undershirt. The Doctor dragged the mobile screen over to him, staring at the readings shooting across it, absolutely flabbergasted.

"Doctor! What's going on? Why are the Daleks chasing us? What did you do?" A clear, woman's voice hollared through all the noise. Between the loud, constant, grinding of the TARDIS, and the Earth shaking explosions outside, the noise was deafening.

The woman, Sarah Jane Smith by name, trotted over to her Time Lord friend, fear in her deep brown eyes. The middle-aged woman brushed her shoulder-length, greying brown hair out of her face, as the floor abruptly shifted. She quickly grabbed onto the console, steadying herself. Her heart-shaped face was a mask of stress, as she too, looked at the screen. The Dalek ship ouside was gaining fast. She tugged her dark brown, leather jacket closely around her unconsciously, one thumb resting in the belt loop of her fitted jeans. It had been a long time since she had seen a Dalek vessel that close.

"I have no idea! I didn't even do anything!" The Doctor replied, his Scottish accent almost drowned out by the explosions. He glanced over, Sarah Jane leveling him a disbelieving look. "What? Really! This time it's true! I was just trying to watch Monarch of The Glen when they showed up." He yanked another lever and, flipping a few switches, sent his ship spinning to the side, dodging another pair of deadly blasts from the enemy vessel.

"Well they must want something!" his companion yelled over the blaring alarm, "how did they even find us?"

"I have no clue! Press the green button over there," he ordered, trotting to the other side of the console. He felt the machine shudder, trying to enter the Time Vortex, and phase out. He squinted as he stared at the screen, watching the reading scrawling across the bottom. The Daleks were blocking them from traveling somehow, but he wasn't exactly sure how. He guessed the first shot they got hit with, contained a Temporal Shift Blocker. He could bypass it, but it would take time.

Sarah did as she was told, smacking the button through a shower of yellow sparks.

"Chances of surviving this encounter are sixty eight percent," the garbled robotic voice chimed from the Cyberman head on the console.

"Thankyou Handles, now please, shut up," The Doctor replied. His hands were a blur across the console, flipping more switches and leavers. The TARDIS shot to the right, another blast sailing harmlessly into space.

"Can't we just leave?" Sarah yelled, pulling a leaver of her own. She knew the TARDIS fairly well herself, and he trusted her in times like this. She had known him the longest of almost anyone; at this point, trust was a given.

"I'm trying but, they've done something," he growled. If he could just hack the Return Circuit, he could probably get it going.

"Tractor Beam detected," Handles chimed, "contact in six..."

"Oh no you don't, not today," the Scottsman narrowed his vision in agitation. He was not getting abducted by Daleks. He had other things to do. Monarch of the Glen was not going to watch itself.

"Five..." The Doctor stumbled around the other side of the console, nearly pushing Sarah Jane out of the way.

"Four..." he grabbed a pair of red leavers, his hands sweating. He hoped this worked...

"Three..."

"Sarah, hang on to something!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Two..." he set his feet, taking a deep breath.

"One..." he thrust one lever violently forward while tearing the other backwards.

He felt it as everything slid backwards, keeping a white knuckle grip on the controls. He felt his feet lift off the ground as they reached the apex, the artificial gravity barely compensating as they turned completely upside-down, white sparks shooting from the time roater. He glanced at Sarah Jane, who barely clung to the console as her feet slid across the floor.

He waited for what felt like an eternity, before ramming both switches into opposite directions. Everything bulldozed forward again, his stomach slamming painfully into the controls. Through the pain, he pushed a third lever ahead, the time machine speeding back the way they originally came. He had executed the perfect back flip, right over top of the Dalek mothership, and righted himself. He would have gotten high marks in the academy for that.

"Congratulations, your chances of survival are now seventy-five percent," Handles garbbled. Although his artificial intelligence was repaired, and his combat matrix was disabled, The Doctor had yet to fix the head's voice operations.

"Wonderful," Sarah groused, as she pulled herself off the floor where she had fallen, "but they're still after us, what are we going to do?"

"It'll take them a few seconds to turn about, and catch up. It may be all the time I need," The Doctor chattered, ticking away on the keyboard. He was almost into the Return Circuit.

"Downgrade to sixty percent chance of survival," Handles corrected. The Doctor glanced at the screen; The Daleks were gaining fast, but their cannons were no longer firing. That was curious.

"In coming hail from Dalek vessel," called the Cyberman head. The Doctor's eyebrows immediately shot up in supprise, a look seconded by Sarah Jane. He did not stop typing away, as he nearly had his ship in full working order, but he pressed the button on the side of the screen.

He was met with an image familiar to him. The face of a sagging old man met him. He looked nearly human, but his modifications were evedant. His pair of natural eyes were perminantly shut, but a single, glowing, blue eye gazed out. Wires jutted from the top of his head, and one metal hand was visible in the picture. A perpetual look of disgust marred his already ugly face. Davros, creator of the Daleks; it had been a very long time.

"TARDIS customer service, operator twelve speaking, how may I direct your call," The Doctor asked with a sarcastic smile. Davros was unnamused.

"You... I know what you have done," he answered darkly. His voice had a watery quality to it, mixed with an electronic buzz. "I know what you have done to my children."

"I'm sorry sir, you're going to need to be more specific, or I'll have to send you to human resources." He replied mockingly. He had a long, and admittedly, bloody history with the Daleks, it was hard to tell which incident he was actually referring to.

"Don't lie to me!" Davros shouted, "I know you have turned my Daleks against me! You will reverse what you have done!" The Doctor squinted at the screen, then glanced to Sarah Jane.

"What is he talking about?" She mouthed silently. The Doctor shrugged in reply, making a circle motion with his pointer finger at his temple.

That... was new. He had done no such thing. As a matter of fact, he hadn't even seen a Dalek for quite awhile. At first he thought he was referring to a defective Dalek he had met when traveling with Clara, that had turned on it's own people. But Davros had said "Daleks;" plural. This, he had nothing to do with. Well... not yet anyway.

"Sorry sir, TARDIS Incorporated has no records of such activities. Perhaps you should try calling our subsidiary, Doctor Disco's Conflict Resolution and Mediation Services" he imagined if Davros could make any facial expressions besides insanity, and rage, annoyance would be there right now. Davros didn't relent.

"I don't know how you did it. I don't know how you created the Heretic's code, but I will find a way to fix it," his chest started to heave, his electronic voice becomming a seething yell, metal finger jabbing at the screen, "AND WHEN I DO, I WILL EXTERMINATE YOU! I WILL EXTERMINATE YOU, AND YOUR BELOVED COMPANION AND THE ENTIRE EARTH YOU HOLD SO DEAR! I..."

"And you get an extermination!" The Doctor interrupted with a fake American accent, pointing around the room, "and you get an extermination! And you get an extermination!" He saw a red light blip on. The TARDIS was nearly ready. He just had to reprogram the switch. "Oh look at that, I've got another call coming in! Sorry sir, I have to send you to HR." He smiled, and sent the screen spinning around the console.

Right into the waiting hands of Sarah Jane.

"Good morning mister...ah... Dave-ros" she intentionally mispronounced with a smirk, "what can I help you with today?"

"Ah... Ms. Smith, I didn't expect to see you here," Davros sneered, "tell me, did I have your son and daughter exterminated when last we met? I'll be sure to rectify that in the very near future." To her credit, Sarah didn't even flinch.

"I'll have to ask you not to threaten the staff Sir, that's very impolite." She replied. She caught on, and was stalling... good. That was half of why she was The Doctor's best friend. She was smarter than most people.

"If you were to tell me how to fix my children, I could make an exception for your family, and perhaps even yourself." He warbled.

"TARDIS Incorporated is very sorry you are disappointed, but all purchases are final. Sorry, no refunds." She nodded with a smile.

"Your loyalty to the Time Lord will be your death. Do you think he cares that your family will suffer? That you will die in pain? He will sacrifice you as he has all the others that came before you!" Davros shouted.

"I'm deeply sorry we could not resolve this issue. We do hope you will continue to use TARDIS Incorporated products and it's subsidiaries. Have a nice day." Davros began shouting garbled curses as Sarah smacked the button on the screen, hanging up.

"Nicely done Sarah, witty as always," The Doctor complimented.

"Thankyou, but really, what did you do? What's the Heretic code?" Sarah Jane asked. The TARDIS began to shake, as more fire erupted from outside, the saucer resuming it's assault.

"It sounds like it's something that turned some of the Daleks against him. But really, I didn't do it." The Doctor wished he had. It would have made his life alot easier, if they were too busy trying to kill each other, to kill him.

"Really? You wouldn't lie to me would you?" She asked.

"Thirty eight percent chance of survival," Handles tried to interrupt.

"Don't you think if I could turn Daleks on each other, I would have done it by now?" He asked, ignoring the Cyberhead.

"Good point. Makes me wonder who did." The Doctor wondered the same thing. He would have to look into that later.

The console abruptly pinged like an egg timer.

"There it is, we're ready to go!" He shouted excitedly, sparks shooting from the left wall as another shot grazed the ship. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere that isn't here!" Sarah Jane yelled. The Doctor pulled back the main lever, the loud warping grind starting as they took off. The sounds of the Dalek ship faded, and everything became quiet, as they entered the Time Vortex.

He let out a sigh of relief. That had been a close call. Once again though, he, and Sarah made it through together, as they always did.

"I'm not sure we should have antagonized Davros like that," Sarah scrunched her face, concerned, "he's probably going to come after us now, more than ever."

"He's going to do that anyway," he waved off, "may as well have some fun." He wasn't exactly happy about Davros coming for them, but it had been happening for the last thousand years of his life so... he was used to it by now. "Oh! Speaking of fun, I have a present for you!"

In all the excitement, he had barely remembered it. He dug his hands in his deep coat pockets. He brushed against a few of his items; cigarette case of Jelly Babies, yo-yo, small ball of string, a loose marble... before finding, and pulling out the item he was looking for, and held it behind his back so she couldn't see it.

It was a long cylindrical object made of wood, accented with a gold grip. The tip was a glowing blue stone, that pulsed with energy.

"Now, you're sonic lipstick is still on the fritz," he started.

"Really, I thought you were trying to fix it," she said disappointed. She had used a defective setting that had burned out the amazing tool. Unfortunately, he hadn't figured out how to fix it.

"I was. I tried to use it to fix the door to the pool but... it blew it off the hinges so... I thought I'd give you this." He produced the sonic screwdriver from behind his back. "I used to use this one when I had my eighth body, but... I don't really like it much anymore. I had it updated with the latest software, so it would function just like you're old lipstick." He smiled.

"Oh my God, thankyou Doctor," she returned, throwing her arms around his shoulders, taking the tool. She appeared to weigh it in her hand, before depressing the button. The familure whirring warble escaped it and she looked it over. "It's beautiful."

With a dull clunk, the TARDIS shook. They had landed.

"So, where are we today? Someplace fun I hope!" Sarah smiled, slipping her new screwdriver into her hip pocket. He nodded. She had no idea.

"Victorian England. I thought it was about time I introduced my best friend to my favorite detectives, The Paternoster Gang."


	2. Missing

The hum of Victorian era London always surprised the Doctor, no matter how many times he went there. As he and Sarah Jane walked through the stone streets, he couldn't help but feel a certain sensory overload.

People moved about in hurried groups, chattering amongst themselves. Most were bundled in overcoats, with top hats upon their heads, a symptom of the season of winter. Carriages rumbled noisily by at random, the clip clop of horse hooves echoing through the streets. Criers from all manner of buisnesses filled the air with their advertisements, each trying to drown one another out, while street venders haggled with customers. Although they had landed in one of the more kept areas of London, (The Doctor wanted to avoid Whitechaple at all costs), the air was thick with the smell of coal. Thick black clouds obscured the sky, drifting over from the industrial district. Regardless, a light snow still sprinkled down, giving the city that magical look that so many associated London with, even people in the far future.

Sarah Jane stuck close, but The Doctor caught the broad smile on her face. He knew she always loved this time period, and he couldn't blame her. He had spent a great deal of time here himself; whenever he felt lost, the smokestacks of old Albion were always there to welcome him home.

"I hope people don't notice how I'm dressed," Sarah Jane worried as they walked, "I don't exactly blend in."

"Don't trouble yourself, Sarah," he replied, shaking his head, "I came here in that unfortunate, multi-colored, monstrosity of a coat many times, and no one batted an eye." What he had been thinking to wear such a thing; if he ever ran into his sixth self, he'd have to give him a stern talking to about fashion.

"At least you fit in now," she motioned.

"I should, this was the first place I came with this body. Well, besides down the gullet of a T-Rex."

"How did you... I don't want to know," she chuckled, "so where are we going?"

"Thirteen Paternoster Row. I landed further away, fancied a walk." That was partially true; he hadn't meant to land the TARDIS so far away, but it was for the best. He needed to clear his head anyway.

He was troubled by a recent event, and couldn't sort it out in his head. The Daleks, and Davros, were only the most recent thing that was bothering him.

The month before, it had come to his attention a different enemy was out for his head, one he believed was dead. The Great Intelligence had made himself known, sending an assassin to a party he had gone to. The assassin had caused the deaths of all but three people in the house, not counting he, and Sarah Jane. The deaths alone had disturbed him enough, but the fact that such a dangerous entity had returned did not bode well for anyone. He had since tried to root him out, to little success. He had gone back under the radar.

Beyond that, he had noticed a pattern of dreams; dreams people should not be having. An Ice Warrior dreaming of Daleks, and a Puritan having fevor nightmares of Cybermen. Even Sarah Jane had mentioned in passing that her sleep was troubled by strange dreams of both of those creatures.

Her dreams could be explained; she had fought Daleks, Cybermen, and many of the other horrors the universe had to offer. The fact she didn't have nightmares all the time supprised him. It was a testament to her mental fortitude.

The rest though, he could not dismiss so readily. There was a pattern here, but he couldn't see how, or why. It all had to do with The Great Intelligence; he could feel it in his bones. But, aside from wanting him, he couldn't see his plan fully. He wanted to investigate it more, but his opponent was cunning. He used espionage, rather than brute tactics like the Daleks. He was harder to see. Usually, once one did, it was far too late.

He enjoyed lying to himself, and saying that was the only reason. Deep down, he didn't want to find him. He wanted to protect people yes, and stop whatever plot The Great Intelligence had against him. Yet, one thing held him back; the woman walking beside him.

He had been dragging Sarah Jane into danger since they first met, and he did not want to drag her into this. He wanted her to be safe, not fighting against Daleks, Cybermen, The Trickster, or Sutek. The paradox was not lost on him; he put her in danger just by being around her.

He knew what he should do. He should climb back in his TARDIS, and drop her off back on Bannerman Road, whether she wanted to go, or not. Just put her back into her life, just as he had all those years ago, the first time they travelled together. He had been protecting her then, too.

But, as he looked at his oldest friend, who was still beaming at the sight of old London, he knew he couldn't do it. He wanted her around. He had missed her for over a thousand years after he dropped her off. He missed every companion that left, but he felt her absence more acutely. She had known almost every regeneration of his, and he had known her for her entire life. That was a bond like no other. It couldn't be broken, and he, selfishly, didn't want to be alone.

"Paternoster Row, isn't that where we dropped off David?" Sarah Jane asked. The Doctor nodded.

"Yes, he is helping Vastra, one of my friends." He, and Sarah Jane had saved David from Puritan America not long ago. He was a victim of the witch trials conducted in a small town. In reality, the trials were a ploy, so the town Paster could feed an alien he was worshipping as a God.

"I wish you had let me meet your friends then," she groused.

"It was overwhelming for David, I didn't want to add to it." He had taken David to Vastra, not willing to let him die at the hands of the ignorant hicks in his own time. Vasta had taken him, as she did all who came to her door. Granted, it took some convincing to get David to not just run. Strax alone almost put him in a panic.

He had asked Sarah Jane to stay behind, mostly because he wanted to get David situated. Her being there would have complicated things. Not to mention, she had fallen asleep with her head on the console three times on the way there. She seemed to have forgotten that. He didn't need to bring that up.

He was broken from his train of thought by the crowd up ahead. About thirty people were gathered by the wall of a building, whispering among one another in hushed tones.

Ever adventurous, he began pushing his way to the front. He wanted to see what everyone was so concerned about. He hoped it was something interesting, and not a peice of toast shaped like The Queen, or something. Some humans were so enamored of things like that.

He felt Sarah Jane gingerly grasp his hand as he gently pushed past the people, obviously not wanting to miss the spectacle. He thought he heard whispers about "muderer," or "disappeared," only deepening his interest. He loved a good mystery.

Once he reached the front, he understood what everyone was looking at. A few boards of wood were nailed to the building, creating makeshift bulletin board. Across the top, in messy paint, was the word "Missing."

Below, were nearly forty pictures of people tacked to the wood through various means. Most were hand drawn sketches, most with names, and dates they were last scene beneath them. Others just written descriptions, some of which, gave only the barest facts. He even noted one or two grainy photographs, the top of the technology of the time, and a single tinplate. Some were so old they were too faded to read, while others were torn away completely, by angry hands, or an uncaring breeze.

It was obvious that this board was unofficial, and had been put up by the people, which made him wonder if the police were involved at all. He could see no discernable victimology; among the numbers were both men, and women, from a variety of neighborhoods. He noted most were white, but he saw a few Africans among them, and Asians as well.

He wouldn't have been surprised to hear of a few disappearances. Victorian London, especially in neighborhoods like Bowery, and Whitechaple, was a dangerous place to live. Gangs of thugs fought for control of the streets. The opium trade was becoming more volatile with the introduction of more potent strains of the drug, and widespread addiction to laudnum. Beyond that, it was not so long ago, Jack The Ripper stalked the streets, giving way to strings of copycat killings, and widespread paranoia.

But this was a shocking scale. To have so many people disappear, without a trace... something was not right. Had they been killed? Or mearly taken? And for what purpose?

"Doctor, what do you suppose this is all about?" Sarah Jane asked. He only shook his head, eyes boring into the board as though if he looked at it hard enough, it would give up it's secrets.

"Damn shame, that is," a rough looking sort complained next to the pair, "The Bobbys ain't doing nothin' bout it. They don't even believe no one's missin',"

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked him. He snickered disingenuously.

" I 'erd most of 'em was going to the spike. They say they probably just run off. No one cares 'bout the poor. They ain't gonna' do nothin' until one o' them rich jollylocks turns up gone. Then them muttenshunters will be hassling everyone who looks an 'em sideways." The man shook his head, and walked off.

"The spike?" Sarah Jane questioned.

"Derogatory colloquialism for the workhouses," The Doctor replied absently. He couldn't blame them. Workhouses were places of loneliness, and cruelty. The conditions were only just above prison. They were places where the destitute went when they had no where else to go.

"What do you think is going on? This seems wrong." She spoke alound what he felt. He wondered if The Paternoster Gang was looking into it. He doubted such a thing would escape Madam Vastra's eye. Either way, he would have to do some digging himself.

He tugged Sarah Jane gently out of the crowd, moving on. They were only a few blocks away from Paternoster Row.

The Doctor hated himself a bit, but he was mischievously looking forward to Sarah Jane meeting that gang of misfits. He doubted she was expecting to see a Silurian, or a Sontaran at all in Victorian England, let alone living together. She usually kept her composure in all situations, but he sometimes caught her off guard.

They turned the corner onto Paternoster Row, and began up the narrow street. This street was perfectly idealic; rows of Victorian Manor homes, well maintained by the residents. Horse drawn carriages clip-cloped up, and down the street, past the pruned gardens that seemed to bloom, even with the coming winter.

The pair continued along, The Doctor's excitement growing. He had spoken to Vastra about Sarah Jane many times. Not only that, to some extent, thirteen Paternoster row was like a home away from home to him. It would be good to return.

They arrived at the front door, both climbing up the front steps. The Doctor took hold of the ornate door knocker, and wrapped against the door. It took a few moments before the door finally creaked open. He heard Sarah Jane stifle a ghasp, and smiled.

The creature before them was shaped, and colored like a human potato. His bloodshot eyes were deep set, and his wide mouth attemping to smile, instead looking absolutely insane. Stocky, his stubby arms ended in three-fingered hands, and his stumpy legs made him far shorter than the average human. He wore a fine butlers outfit; completely out of place, being worn by a Sontaran like him.

"I am terribly sorry, but Madam Vastra will not be entertaining visitors today. Any who persist will be beaten severely," The butler stated, matter of factly.

"Hello Strax, it's good to see you too,"The Doctor grinned, completely ignoring his comment.

"Why, Doctor!" Strax exclaimed, "I didn't recognize you, you look absolutely terrible!" He now turned his attention to Sarah Jane. "And who is this frail young lad?"Sarah Jane barely missed a beat.

"Sarah Jane Smith. Pleased to meet you," she stuck out her hand to shake his. Instead, the alien only looked down at it, confused, then shook his head.

"No thankyou, should I require a thorough slapping, I will find someone else with the sufficient musculoskeletal structure to accomplish the job. Thankyou for your consideration," Strax nodded politely. Sarah Jane couldn't hide her open mouthed shock, The Doctor snickering at her.

"Strax, what are you doing? For goodness sakes, let them in!" A the high voice of a woman called. She soon came into view from one of the other rooms.

The pretty young woman was garbed in the outfit of a maid. Her brown hair was kept in a stylish up-do, out of her face, and she held a bemused look in her dark eyes. Though thin, and on the wan side, Jenny Flint would be considered attractive by most standards, belying the intellegence, The Doctor knew lurked beneath the skin.

Yes, ma'am," Strax nodded, then turned back to Sarah Jane, "I'm sorry young man, I'll have to frisk you for grenades."

"No, you don't Strax!" Jenny shouted, holding back a laugh, " How many times do I have to tell you, normal people don't carry around grenades."

"Ah,... are you sure?" the Sontaran asked incredulously, only finding a glare in return from Jenny, "ah... well, right this way." He stepped out of the way, allowing them entry.

"Strax, go clean up the kitchen, there's a puddle again."

"Shall I use the mop? Or shall I melt the floor?"

"Mop," Jenny replied dryly.

With a heavy, disappointed sigh, Strax toddled away, down the hall, and to the right. Jenny finially addressed the pair of time travellers, a sweet grin on her face.

"Hello Doctor! It's good to see you! Been awhile," she greeted, stepping forward, then turning to Sarah Jane. "And who is this? You've never brought her around before."

"This, is Sarah Jane Smith," The Doctor introduced, pride swelling in his voice. "Sarah, this is Jenny Flint."

"Oh goodness, I should have known!" Jenny exclaimed, "you look exactly how The Doctor described!" She suddenly drew Sarah into a friendly hug. "It's so good to meet you!"

"Same to you Ms. Flint," Sarah replied with a genuine smile.

"Oh no, call me Jenny. Any friend of the good Doctor's is a friend of mine. I hope Strax didn't give you too much trouble."

"He was a bit odd... but not the worst I've met..." Sarah trailed off. The Doctor remembered the other times they had run upon Sontarans; it had not been a good experience.

"That's becuase you don't live with him," Jenny joked, "my Wife is in the parlor if you want to see her. She'll be happy to meet the legendary Sarah Jane." Jenny led the way, down the narrow hall, to the room at the back of the house.

The sweet smell of flowers was nearly overwhelming here. As they walked through the doorway, they were met immediately by a jungle of plants. All types were present here, from cacti, and crotons, to massive snake plants, and flowered vines that krept up the walls. The winter twilight peeking through the windows gave the room an ethereal white glow, contrasting in a strangely alluring way with the plants.

Near by, a small coffee table was set up, with a few chairs near it. An ornate teaset was upon it, a sweet aroma escaping it, with puffs of steam.

Seated at the table was a refined looking Silurian woman. Her bright green scales, and knife like fins, were in sharp contrast to her wizened eyes. Her sharp teeth were like needles when she smiled at her visiters, rising from her comfortable chair. Her flowing, black, and purple Victorian gown helped her cut quite the stunning figure.

"Doctor!" She smiled, her soft, melodic voice filled with warmth, "how wonderful it is to see you again."

"Same to you Vastra, looking lovely as always," he replied. He had known this Silurian for a very long time. She had taken him in for a time, when he had lost Amy. He directly thanked her for healing him; despite that she came from a warrior race, and that she herself was both an excellent combatant, and detective, she was also incredibly kind, and caring. Perhaps that wisdom came from being older than the dinosaurs. Or maybe, it was just ingrained from the start.

"Oh my... you,"she smiled turning to Sarah, "you can only be one person. You must be Sarah Jane."

"Yes, I am," replied Sarah, seeming a tad surprised.

"Madam Vastra, at your service. Please, do sit. Have a spot of tea," the pair abliged, sitting at the table. Vastra poured Sarah Jane a piping hot cup, though The Doctor waved his off. He wasn't much in the mood for tea... maybe later.

"Jenny, do make up the guest rooms for our friends," Vastra asked, Jenny nodding a scuttling off. "The Doctor has told me much about you, I hope you know that."

"I didn't," Sarah smiled, "but it is good to know that I am so appreciated."

"What has brought you hear to my doorstep Doctor? I has been to long."

"Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood, running from Daleks, and I dicided to pop in, say hello." He did not want to ask her about the disappearances yet. He thought they should catch up first, a niceity he only saved for his best of friends. Most of the time, he prefered to shoot from the hip.

"It is curious that the pair of you arrived now," she seemed to think outloud, "another friend of yours is currently staying here."

"David?" Sarah Jane asked.

"No, though we have stayed very close. I've sent our other guest on an errand. He's been doing some work for me. I think you will be pleased to see him," Vastra replied. The Doctor wondered who it was, and why she was being so cryptic.

"Who is it?" The Doctor asked.

"You'll see, I believe I just heard him come through the front door," she answered.

* * *

Jack Harkness pulled his navy blue trench coat tightly around his burly shoulders as a chilly wind whipped through the Victorian streets. He straightened his neatly cut, brown hair as he walked. He couldn't go off looking a mess after all.

He turned down another alley, quickly jogging to the adjoining street. He set his lantern jaw, gritting his teeth. He wanted to get back to Madam Vastra as soon as he could, and relay what he found.

He pulled back the right sleeve of his jacket, looking down at the device on his wrist. A black bracelet, it was adorned with all manner of switches, and buttons, a few lights flashing on it. He supposed he could use his Vortex Manipulater. The portable Time Machine would take him there in no time flat, literally.

He pulled his sleeve back down. He was trying to use it as little as possible, lest he burn it out. He did not want to get stuck here after all.

Jack had come here from the future. It was originally at the behest of Unit; there had been a violent break in at Unit's Black Archive, and the theft of a Vortex Manipulator, similar to the one on his wrist.

This had led him to an unfortunate entanglement with Davros, and the Daleks. They had accused him of colluding with an old friend of his, The Doctor, on some kind of virus called the Heretic's Code. They put him in prison, knowing Jack couldn't die like most people. They assumed they could torture information that he didn't possess out of him.

That was when someone came to save him. Another Time Lord, this one calling herself The Corsair, broke him out. After escaping the Daleks, including the insane Dalek Caan, she took him to a deserted prison planet, and revealed her true nature.

She was from another universe, one destroyed by The Great Intelligence. She had since fought him over, and over, and he had devoured every universe the same way. She had said it was due to The Doctor regenerating into someone else.

Events were unfolding the same as the always had, except for the existence of Jack. He was dead in every other universe, but for this one. She believed he was the key too, not only saving The Doctor, but the universe as a whole. She had sent him here, to Victorian England, to find The Doctor, through his friends, The Paternoster Gang.

Jack had been staying with Madam Vastra, and her misfits for about two weeks. She had been expecting him when he arrived; some form of telepathic message he did not understand, was involved. Upon his arrival, he told her his entire tale, and as any ally of The Doctor's would, she agreed to help him.

She told him The Doctor always turned up here eventually, and she was an old enemy of The Great Intelligence. She had friends in both high, and low places, and had them watching for signs of him. She was also keeping her eyes out for The Doctor, or any of his friends.

In the meantime, he was helping her with some of her investigations. As a former time agent, he was an apt detective, and had a mind for espionage. It also helped keep his mind off of things.

The pressure weighed heavily on him. He, essentially, knew that the apocalypse was imminent, and if they didn't do the right things, it would happen. The Corsair made it clear she believed he was a key figure in this. He couldn't help but feel nervous. He was confidant in his skills, but the stakes were never higher. If he messed up, it could mean the end of everything. How could one not feel the pressure? If he didn't save The Doctor, as The Corsair said, it could doom everyone, and everything. It was a humongous weight.

His ears perked up as he walked, hearing one of the criers shouting about the news.

"Another gruesome body found in Whitechaple! Has The Ripper returned?" he shouted. Jack shook his head, and kept walking. This was actually what Vastra had him looking into.

She sent him to find a man named Alistair Brown, an illegal laudnum dealer in Whitechaple. She didn't particularly care about that; they were a dime a dozen. What she cared about was, four of his employees had been carved up over the last three weeks.

The police were baffled, but had no suspects. They did look similar to the murders committed by Jack The Ripper, but Jack could see the differences the detectives couldn't. The victims were all male, which already didn't fit the formula. All of them had organs removed; one his heart, and right hand, one an arm, and another his lungs. The final man was decapitated. Jack hadn't seen the gruesome scenes (his imagination ran wild though), but it was enough to tell him something bizaar was going on.

So, he went looking for Alistair, but failed. He was nowhere to be found. His home, shop, local hangouts; he was gone like a ghost. He had asked a few of the locals, and Alistair had disappeared completely. No one knew where he had gone, or why. It bothered Jack.

That was another thing Vastra had begun to look into; people were dissappearing rapidly. It was too many to be a coincidence, and they all seemed to be people someone thought no one would miss. He wondered if it was connected to the brutal killings. He would bring that up to Madam Vastra when he returned.

He turned down another alley, near Paternoster Row; he was almost back. A man appeared at the other end of the narrow causeway, walking rapidly towards him. He looked normal for the time, dressed in a long overcoat, and stovepipe hat. Yet, something in Jack tensed. Perhaps, it was his years as a time agent, or experience from Torchwood, but something was off. He could feel it.

The man walked near to him, shifting aside to pass by him. They slipped past each other, relief filling Jack. He had just been paranoid.

Then he felt the vice grip on his shoulder. He was spun around, the man flinging him hard into the wall, both hands holding him to the bricks. His cold gaze looked into him, his eyes suddenly lighting up yellow.

Jack watched in horror as the man's facial skin shifted in place, changing into miniature cubes. They began to roll into one another, peeling back, revealing the robot beneath.

It reminded him of a giant lightbulb, shaped like a spoon. It's neck was nothing but an iron rod, reaching down into the fake flesh below.

Jack squirmed, and struggled. It was strong but if he could just get to his gun on his belt...

"The Great Intelligence require's that you die," the Spoonhead droaned. He almost had it, he just had to stretch a bit more.

"Obviously you haven't heard the rumors pal," Jack taunted, "I can't die. Hope failure isn't a scrapable offense."

He saw it's glowing head begin to light up bright blue, a loud whirring accompanying it. Face laser... great.

He struggled more, the light turning teal. In a panic, he kicked his boot into it's stomach as hard as he could.

It let go, and was pushed back by the force of the blow. Jack ducked, just as it fired, the bright, killer beam scorching a hole in the brick where his head had been. He quickly grabbed his glowing, red laser pistol, pointed, and fired.

In a flash of red, and the crash of shattering glass, the shot blew the Spoonhead's bulb into a burnt mess of melted wires, and warped metal. It teatered on it's feet for a few seconds, before finially flopping over, slumping against the wall.

He wiped the stress sweat off of his brow, and holstered his gun. This was not a good sign- the The Great Intelligence knew he was on his tail. He wasn't even sure how. He had never personally run into him, nor fought him. This thing was obviously one of his servents. He needed to tell Vastra about this. If it came after him, it could come after her.

He kept his cool, walking quickly out of the alley, not wanting to raise suspicion. He didn't need to get arrested for killing a killer robot. It would be just his luck.

After a few blocks, he finally reached Thirteen Paternoster Row. As he walked up the steps, the door opened. He had expected to see Strax, and was surprised to find Jenny instead.

"It's good your back," she said hurriedly, "he's here."

"Who?" Jack asked.

"The Doctor." Finially, what The Corsair had said was indeed true. A shadow passed over Jack, however. It had begun now. There was no turning back. The end of everything, had begun.


	3. Modern Prometheus

If Sarah Jane could describe how she felt, it was pleasantly overwhelmed. When The Doctor mentioned The Paternoster Gang, he never told her two thirds of them were not humans. She didn't have an issue with that; she had traveled to more alien worlds than she could count, and seen more interstellar species than she could remember. Tolerance was something The Doctor taught.

But she had still been surprised, especially by Strax. She had run into Sontarans more than once, and had found them to be violent, brutish, and warlike. As a race, they were genetically engineered for conquest, so it made her wonder how one had not only found it's way to Victorian England, but as a butler. She could still see his violent impulses, but he was exercising self control... something she thought no Sontaran could do.

Jenny was the only one that could be construed as normal here, but Sarah Jane knew better. She herself was full proof that none of The Doctor's friends were normal, and considering Jenny was living with a Sontaran, and, evidently married to a Silurian, she was anything but.

As she looked at Vastra, in her regal elegance, she couldn't help but feel at ease. She knew Silurians were the inhabitants of Earth long before humans, and had met many, sometimes as friend, sometimes foe. She felt her intensity, and saw the intelligence behind her reptilian eyes, but it was all overpowered by an air of kindness. She felt more at ease than anything else. She had been at Paternoster Row for less than twenty minutes, and she already felt at home.

"It is curious that the pair of you arrived now," Vastra mused, "another friend of yours is currently staying here."

"David?" Sarah Jane asked. This was apparently where The Doctor had taken the Puritan. She could imagine how he reacted. He had practically paniced when they had seen a spacecraft together, let alone seeing a potato soldier, and a talking reptile.

"No, though we have stayed very close. I've sent our other guest on an errand. He's been doing some work for me. I think you will be pleased to see him," Vastra replied. Sarah Jane wondered who else it could be? Was it someone she knew, or someone she still needed to meet?

"Who is it?" The Doctor asked.

"You'll see, I believe I just heard him come through the front door," she answered.

"Hey! What's cookin' Straxy?" She heard a boisterous male's voice echo through the house. She thought she recognized it, but couldn't place who it belonged to.

"Nothing! Ms. Flint refused to allow me to melt the floor," the Sontaran replied gruffly.

"That's a shame Strax," he continued, stomping footsteps coming toward the door. As the door creaked open, Sarah Jane was shocked by who she saw. She did indeed know the tall, handsome man before them. He was the leader of Torchwood, and a time traveller, like them. She noted the Vortex Manipulator sticking out from the sleeve of his coat, and he flashed that same cocky grin he had so long ago, when they all fought the Daleks together. Jack Harkness stood bold as brass in the door way.

He nodded to Vastra, his eyes falling first on The Doctor, his expression changing to a bemused smile, then to Sarah, whom he shot a wink.

"Jack?!" The Time Lord exclaimed. She noted the supprised look on The Doctor's face, his eyes wide.

"Glad to see you have returned Capitan Harkness. Some old friends have dropped in to see us," Vastra greeted with a sweet smile.

"My God, Doctor, is that you?" He seemed to ask rhetorically, "I almost didn't recognize you... you got old." he smirked. The last regeneration Jack had seen, as far as Sarah knew, was the young professor with glasses and and perpetually stuck-up hair.

"We all get old Jack, some of us just show it more than others."

"Wow... and Scottish now, that's new!" he now turned to Sarah. "My goodness Sarah Jane! I almost didn't recognize you. You look even younger than you did when I saw you last." He took her hand, kissing the back of it, ever the flirt.

"Oh, stop it Jack," she laughed. He was so shamless.

"Yes Jack, stop it," The Doctor reiterated seriously, his glare icy. Was he actually jealous? Or, was it just that old annoyance with Jack's constant flirting.

"It's good to see you again, Doc. Been awhile," Jack said with a nod. He seemed... oddly uncomfortable, though she couldn't imagine why. It wasn't The Doctor's newest form; he had seen two different ones already. It was something else...

"Jack came by a few weeks ago, he's been working for me ever since," Vastra put in.

"Why are you here?" Sarah Jane asked, "the work at Torchwood can't have dried up." She figured that was what The Doctor was wondering too, not to mention she had the same concern. Jack Harkness never just... showed up. He was more like The Doctor in that respect, danger had a habit of finding him.

"I was actually looking for him," he nodded to The Doctor. That made this even more interesting, but she noted he was avoiding the questions. She couldn't help but wonder why...

"Why?" The Doctor's eyes narrowed, "and don't tell me it was just to say 'hello,' you know I hate it when you do that."

"Oh, you know... just to catch up... see what you're up to these days," his charming smile wasn't fooling her. He was hiding his intentions. It was very unlike him. He was lying through those perfect teeth. Now Vastra butted in, her voice more tense than it had been only minutes ago.

"Jack, I really think you should tell..." the Silurian started, but was cut off.

"Madame Vastra!" Strax shouted through the house, "Madam Vastra." He burst through the door, a letter held in his stumpy hand. "I just received this letter! The shop; it has been attacked!" Sarah almost sprung to action out of habit, standing from her chair. She noted The Doctor was up as well, sonic screwdriver in hand already. She had no idea what "the shop" was, but any if the company was any indication, this was not a simple robbery.

"My God, the shop? Or _the shop_?" She asked, giving him a stern glace with the second inflection. For once, Strax seemed to pick up on the pretense.

" _The shop_ ," he replied.

"Is David alright? Did the letter say?" She asked quickly. David was involved in this, now, she really wanted to know what this was about.

"The letter came by courier, from him, so I can only assume he died of his injuries after writing it," Strax replied sternly, drawing an eye roll from everyone.

"I'll go check it out, see what happened," Jack announced hurriedly.

"I'll go too," said The Doctor, eyeing Jack. He was probably going to pump him for information on the way, like he did with everyone.

"I'll come, I need to see if David is alright," Sarah agreed. She cared for David; he had lost so much for such a kind man. She hoped he hadn't been hurt.

"You should stay here, Sarah. It will be safer," The Doctor chided.

"Don't you start, I'm not..." she argued.

"Actually..." Vastra said loudly, silencing them both, "I would prefer if you stay too Ms. Smith. The Doctor tells me you are quite capable, and should some force come here, I would feel much safer with you around." Sarah eyed her suspiciously. What was she playing at? Vastra was a Silurian, one of the most fearless, ferocious, combat-able spicies in the universe. They didn't need protection from any one or by anyone.

"I shall retrieve my rifle!" Strax yelled happily, pointing one finger in the air. "All attackers will die for the glory of the Sontaran Empire!"

"No Strax! You are staying right here!" Vastra said firmly, "I need you here, in case of attack." That seemed to pacify the dwarf warmonger, his shoulders visibly slumping.

"Yes ma'am, I will prepare the landmines instead," he sighed.

"No," Vasta shook her head, concealing a smile, "not yet. Wait a bit." Strax nodded with a light bow, before walking out.

"Come on Jack, let's get going," The Doctor said, jaw set. He was obviously irritated.

"Be careful, Doctor," Sarah wished. She knew his answer already.

"Never," he returned with a wry grin. He walked out, but Jack, on the other hand, lingered for a moment.

"I ran into one of you-know-who's bots. He knows I'm onto him," Jack murmered, glanceing to Sarah for a moment, then back again. Vastra only nodded, and Jack hurried out.

Sarah Jane wondered what that was about, and now, intended to find out. There were too many things being hidden here, and she was going to find out about some of them, one way or another. Vastra spoke then, as though reading her mind.

"Please, sit, Sarah Jane. We have far too much to discuss, with far too little time."

* * *

The Doctor followed Jack through the streets, winding their way to their destination. He was familiar with the shop they were referring to, as he had helped Vastra set it up. Outlandish Oddities by name, it was, to the public, a curiosity shop, specializing in strange statues, decorations, and other abnormalities most people didn't want.

What most people didn't know, was that the shop itself was a front. Vastra had collected many strange, and dangerous things over uer long life; things alien, or from the future. Things too dangerous for normal people to get their hands on. Some she had found, others, The Doctor had intrusted her to keep safe.

She had needed someone to watch them; someone trustworthy, intelligent, loyal, and able to keep a secret even under duress. That was where David came in. He had been thrust full force into an alien conspiracy in his own time, and although inexperienced, he had proven his metal. It had taken some time to convince him; he had been a jittery mess after first seeing Strax, then Vastra, but he eventually came around to the idea.

People like him, first touched by aliens, then yanked from his own timeline, no longer had the luxury of an ordinary life. There was no going back after that. David... understood that. Vastra had held onto the deed to that derelict property for a long time, finially turning it into the store house once she met David. As far as he knew, he had done a decent job watching over these items thus far, until now.

The Doctor hoped David was okay. The man had already seen his fair share of horror, and tragedy; the death of his wife, witch trials, butchered bodies of his neighbors, a killer robot, and a murderous priest. He did not need to see more, nor did he need to loose his life.

Although he knew how cold it sounded, he was, to some degree, more worried about the things in the shop's basement than anything. Some of those things were dangerous; guns belonging to Daleks and Cybermen, stasis cubes, dark matter generators, the shattered peices of the Silversmith Mirror, and even a single piece of the final De-mat gun in the universe. Any, and all of those things could be devastating in this time period, or any for that matter. His insides squirmed with the thought of anyone getting their hands on any of those items. He hoped it was innocuous; just a burglar who had no idea what he had found, and was just looking for a quick score. He hoped it wasn't someone with any sort of knowledge, or worse, had targeted it.

As he walked, his eyes bored into Jack's back. He knew he was lying. He was here for another reason, not to "catch up." How stupid did he think he was? He was avoiding questions, and was being blatant about it. It was an annoyance at best, infuriating at worst. What was he hiding? The Doctor jogged a bit, catching up to Torchwood's head. He was going to get the answers out of him, one way or another.

"So, why are you really here, Jack," The Doctor asked seriously. He heard Jack snort.

"What, you're not happy to see me?" Avoiding the question through humor. Typical. Fine, guilt it is.

"When you lie to my face? No," he replied, "I thought we had known each other too long for that."

"First of all, I knew the old you, not this one. Secondarily, it's not entirely untrue... look, we're catching up right now." The Doctor narrowed his eyes, and pursed his lips as they turned down another alley. He thought he was being clever, like a child thought they were clever when they threw their fork when they didn't want to eat.

"Old me, new me, what does it matter?" He knew it didn't to Jack, he was stalling. "Tell me why you're actually here."

"I'm... investigating something." he finially sighed.

"For who? Torchwood?"

"Unit," he returned. The Doctor was taken aback.

"Since when do you do Unit's wetwork?" Jack, and Unit had a mutual respect; but it was far from a friendship, or partnership. They more stayed out of one another's way.

"Since they asked," he shrugged. Still vague. He supposed he thought that would pacify him. Maybe a few of his younger selves, who didn't want to pry. Not this one.

"What exactly are you investigating Jack? And why don't you want to tell me?" This was like pulling teeth; he had been a dentist for awhile, he would know.

"That's classified, and... it's complicated." he breathed. Was he serious? Did he really think that was going to work?

"Anyway, we're here, we can talk about this later." Fine, he wanted to blow him off? He fully intended to talk about this again, and get the information by any means necessary. Including fates worse than death, such as forcing him to eat a pear. Just the thought made him want to shiver.

The corner side store was just as he remembered, dank. Flanked by a dark alley on one side, and a smog producing factory on the other, the location was just out of the way enough to attract a small list of clients. The outside was unwelcoming; only a single window peered inside, coated with a layer of dust. The sign outside, revealing the name of the store as, "Outlandish Oddities," was covered in peeling paint, and had been battered by wind, and weather. They made sure this store looked like a place no one wanted to go into. They wanted it mostly abandoned.

They walked up the steps, and through door, and the tinkling of a bell heralded their arrival. The interior was very cluttered with a variety of wares from around the world. Small statues imported from Asia sat in one section, while another held vases, and pots sculpted in India, and Turkey. Nearby were stacks of carpets woven in the middle east, and hung on the wall were tapestries from South America. Strange paints from Africa were present, and all manner of masks lined the walls nearing the ceiling, some ceramic, others cloth. The Doctor did his best to ignore the shelf of shrunken heads on the eastern wall.

The main counter, where business was done, was destroyed. The glass, and clay wears, smashed all over the floor. The statues were in the same condition, and a glass bowl full of false eyes, hand been upended, spilling across the wooden floor like marbles.

Behind the counter, past all the ransacked mess, was a trap door in the floor, with a steep staircase leading down. The door was forcibly torn off, and The Doctor could see wide clawmarks in it. It would have taken some extraordinary strength to tear it off. Not only that, it blended in perfectly with the floor. Someone would have to know it was there, or be very lucky. The Doctor didn't believe in that kind of luck.

As they walked in, The Doctor's old friend, David walked out. David looked similar to the way The Doctor remembered him; deep set, darkly circled eyes, a mouth lined by wrinkles from stress, and short, sandy hair. Now though, he had grown a short goatee that was neatly trimmed, and was no longer garbed as a Puritan. He looked completely normal for this time period, dressed in a neat jacket, and pants. He had updated with the times,a good sign.

The Doctor could see the residual fear in his eyes, and his hands shook a bit, even yet. He didn't appear to be injured, but for a black eye. Considering the damage done to the door, The Doctor counted him lucky.

"Mr. Harkness! I'm glad you're here!" he shouted hurriedly, "I tried to stop them but..." he then took notice of the Time Lord. "Doctor! Thank goodness!"

"What happend David? Who robbed you?" Jack asked, getting the terrified man back on topic.

"I... they weren't normal men... I have no idea how do describe them," he stuttered. "One looked almost normal but his head... it was wrong for his body, but... but... his hand looked like Vastra's. The other, I just. I don't..."

"What do you mean 'his head was wrong for his body?" The Doctor questioned, eyes squinting. That was an odd way of putting that... what could he possibly mean?

"I..." he took a deep breath, "what I mean to say is...none of their body parts matched."

"I don't understand..." Jack said confused.

"They were like Frankenstein, Mr. Harkness." With that statement, Jack looked at The Doctor, and The Doctor looked at him. It was almost like a silent question between the pair, of whether or not they had seen anything like this before. Only The Doctor nodded. He had... a long, long time ago. But the mastermind of that was dead. This couldn't be related to that... it was impossible.

"What did they take?" The Scottsman asked. That was the most important part.

"A fragment of something Lady Vastra called The Epoch Lens."

The Doctor's blood turned to ice. No... not that. Anything but that. That was bad. Beyond bad. Thay had to figure out who stole that, right away, and why. The fate of everything, and everyone, could depend on it.

* * *

Sarah Jane sat in complete silence as Madam Vastra seemed to look her over. She couldn't help but feel nervous; her gaze had seemed to turn from kind, and motherly, to intense, and shrewd, in no time. She couldn't help but wonder what went on behind that calculating stare.

"What did you think of him... this time... when he came to you?" She finially asked, cocking her head.

"What do you mean? I don't understand..." Sarah had seen so many of The Doctor's regenerations. Every one, no matter how diffrent, one from another, was still The Doctor.

"What he looks like, acts like," She smiled.

"His eyes..." she trailed, "they look older than when I met him last... wiser. As for him, well, he's The Doctor." She wasn't sure what she was getting at here.

"It doesn't bother you?" She asked, "that he's old?" Sarah Jane was shocked. What did that have to do with anything? He _was_ old, ancient, whether he looked it, or not. If fact, it wasn't as if she was a spring chicken; she was a child by The Doctor's standards, but on Earth she was middle-aged. Shock turned to anger. What did she take her for? She didn't care how The Doctor came to her, as long as he did. It didn't matter how he looked, or sounded.

"What kind of question is that?" Sarah spat, sitting up straight, "does it matter to you that he's old? Because let me tell you, he may be old, and grey, and Scottish, and much, much, more difficult this time around, but he is still The Doctor. And if you can't see that then maybe you should just..." she was cut off by the Silurian clapping slowly, with a nod.

"Correct answer, Ms. Smith," she complimented. Sarah suddenly felt foolish, he face turning a bright shade of pink. She should have known Vastra was testing her. The Silurian was probably just as old as he was.

"Sorry, I," but Vastra waved her off.

"Don't be. That was what I wanted to hear. I needed to be sure. He doesn't need a... fair weather friend, not right now."

"I have never been that," Sarah smiled, "even when he dropped me in Aberdeen." She was so angry back then, so bitter. Yet, if that TARDIS landed in front of her, even ten minutes later, and he needed her, she would be there.

"May I ask... how many versions of him have you seen?" Vastra's curiosity seemed genuine, but she had a feeling there was a motivation behind it.

It actually took her a moment to count them. She first travelled with his third face, and he regenerated into the fourth while in her company. She later met his first, and second version, as well as his fifth, eighth. More recently she had met the pair preceding the one she was currently traveling with.

"Ten... I think. It's actually a bit hard to keep straight." She felt uncomfortable saying that. It felt awkward, like forgetting someone's birthday.

Vastra leaned forward, taking Sarah Janes hands in hers. The scales were surprisingly soft, not like razors as she had expected.

"You have been blessed. I hope you know that. You know him better than anyone, probably even better than himself." Her smile looked almost sad, though she couldn't see why. "You should hear how he talks about you. You are more to him than a companion, or an assistant. You are his best friend. I can understand why he chose you for that." There was something else going on here. She could feel it.

"Vastra... what's going on?" Sarah finally asked. Her tone became more serious.

"Jack has told me a great deal over the last few weeks... things I dare not share, lest I disturb events that are still in motion," she began.

"Is this part of his "bot statment?" Sarah Jane cut in.

Vastra nodded, then continued what she was saying. "He needs you. The Doctor will need you more than he ever has. You need to keep him safe. You need to protect him, even if he doesn't want you to." Sarah Jane wondered what she meant by events in motion, but she knew one thing for sure, which she vocalized.

"I will always protect The Doctor," she nodded.

"The things that will come to pass... they can still be re-written. Jack believes he himself is the key but... I believe it will be you." She spoke with quiet intensity. Sarah could feel that Vastra cared for The Doctor, and his well being, not just that he was a hero.

"I... why?" Was the only response Sarah had. This was all so vague, but she could tell that it was serious. She wished she knew more, but understood why she was being careful. Time was delicate, and if one was not carful, they would set into motion events they were attempting to avoid. She was obviously trying to bypass that pratfall.

This made Sarah Jane worry even more. Her mind raced with possibility. Could someone end up hurt? What if it was a death? The Doctor's regeneration? Or was it something that would happen to her, or Jack? There were too many questions, questions she could not ask.

"Jack is here because it is a job. You are here out of love." Vastra said warmly. "It makes all the difference." Sarah Jane had never considered it that way, but the wise Silurian had a point. Wanting to, and needing to, were two very different things. He had been her best friend for more than half of her life; to her it was both.

As Vastra took her hands away, she looked down at Sarah Jane's-more specifically the ornate, black, celtic knot ring on her right hand.

"Where did you get that?" she asked calmly.

"It was given to me by another Time Lord... The Doctor called her The Corsair. She is dead, evidently." The Time Lord had helped her, and by extension, The Doctor, stop an alien who was devouring townsfolk in a small American town. The Corsair had been masquerading as a witch, and had disappeared when Sarah had returned. According to The Doctor, she had lost her life already. He had hoped to warn her away from it but they had been too late.

"Interesting..." Vastra seemed to mull it over a bit, "he hasn't mentioned it, has he?"

"No," Sarah shook her head, "It's almost like..."

"He can't see it," Vastra finished, "interesting."

"Do you know what it is?" She asked.

"Yes, and it you are half as intelligent as The Doctor tells me you are, then so do you." That was the answer she was afraid of. Now she knew exactly what it was.. "And in the same vain, you wont tell him."

Sarah Jane wondered what else was at stake here. What did Jack, Vastra, and even The Corsair back then, know? It made her squirm inside. She had the feeling it was something terrible, and she hoped when it happend she was up to the task. For both her, and The Doctor's sake.


	4. Remnants of The Clockmaker

_(Author's note: Well, I'm back with another chapter. This one has alot of information, and alot of set up. There is also a great deal of foreshadowing. Secondarily I need to thank TARDISBlueBox for pointing out a plot-hole that I have hopefully plugged. I also need to thank MirricatBlackwood and feline38 for their constant help and input. It is very appreciated)_

As The Doctor's boots clunked down the wooden steps, his head swirled with possibilities. It all came down to one thing- what David had said, the Frankenstein men. Men whose limbs didn't match. Men who looked cobbled together out of spare parts. It was familiar, and he couldn't deny it.

The secret basement was a dim, dry space, with very little light to see by. The Doctor understood why; whomever had come in here had snuffed the candle David used to see.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, fiddling with the settings a bit, before pressing the button on the top. With a high pitched whir, the green head lit up. The aura expanded, revealing the devistated room.

Most of the dangerous belongings were scatterd across the floor, the men obviously having ransacked this place. A pair of thick, black, Cyberman rifles were spilled one direction, while a single, cylindrical Dalek gun lay near by. A gravity cube sat near the middle of the room, and had obviously been turned on in the tussle. Around it, two dark matter balls floated like small moons. The shattered pieces of the Silversmith Mirror were suspended in the air, as the stars. A jar of Sontaran Clone Feed had been spilled, making the floor slick, and greasy. It had mixed with some kind of glowing, purple goo. The Doctor hoped it wouldn't have some untold reaction; he had the feeling he would have enough to deal with very soon.

Among more torn-open boxes, and ripped-down shelves, The Doctor noted there really was only one thing missing as far as he could tell; the broken piece of The Epoch Lens. The final De-mat gun, not destroyed in the Time War. The most dangerous thing in the whole room. Probably the whole city.

"I'm... I'm sorry Doctor. I... they knocked me unconscious..." David apologized. The Doctor only held up his hand.

"Shut up, David, I'm thinking. It's over, and done. There's no use whining about it." He didn't have time to lament the theft. They needed action.

"Doctor..." Jack prodded, his tone soft. Obviously he thought he should comfort David. Not going to happen.

"One of the most powerful weapons in history was just stolen, Jack, this is serious. No time for niceties. Now, let me think." He was quiet for a few seconds. He tuned his screwdriver, scanning the room, before looking at the readings. Elevated background radiation, but only slightly. Very likely the footprint of a time traveller.

"It all comes back to one thing... those men, men who didn't match," he started talking, pacing back toward Jack, and David. "I've seen it before... long, long, long time ago. Morbius did it... a Time Lord."

"Time Lord?" Jack asked, "you always say you're the last one."

"Hush," The Doctor scolded sharply, before answering, "this was before the war. He was executed... for mass murder, genocide, slavery; you name it, Morbius did it. Meddled with time to make himself almost a God. He had an entire cult of sociopaths following him. In his time, he made The Master look like a boy scout." He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on.

"The only piece of Morbius left was his brain. One of his fan club members saved it. It was all he needed. He comunicated with a surgeon, and told him how to make a new body for him," The Doctor looked over at David, then Jack. "Out of bodyparts."

"What happened to Morbius?" Jack asked, giving him a sideways glance.

"Sarah and I stopped him. He was thrown off a cliff... but... it's the same. People built out of other people, unless David is terrible at describing things, or is having vivid hallucinations, both of which I doubt." David opened his mouth to speak, but didn't, instead rubbing his forehead. He had a feeling that he was overwhelmed. This was out of his depth, completely.

"You think Morbius is back then?" Jack questioned. The Doctor took a deep, stressed breath.

"I don't know. Last I heard the Sisterhood of Karn took his body, and destroyed it. But, other than a sentient asteroid I met once, he's the only one who has McGyver-ed a body together."

"Sentient what?" Jack replied confused.

"David, were there stitch marks?" The Doctor abruptly shifted topic.

"What?"he jumped. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Stitch marks! Were there stitch marks on their flesh?"

"I... yes. And burns. Some of of the skin looked... melted." he answered with a grimace. That settled it.

"Not the asteroid. His people were seamlessly melded. He's gone anyway, the TARDIS took him out. Besides that, he only killed Time Lords. Including a good friend of mine, called The Corsair," The Doctor chattered absently. That, however got a rise out of Jack, bafflingly.

"What do you mean killed The Corsair?!" He shouted abruptly.

"It used him for spare parts," replied The Doctor, his brow furrowed, "what of it?" Jack regained his composure quickly.

"I... she worked with Torchwood once, or twice... I'm just surprised, that's all," Jack answered. The Doctor narrowed his eyes. He was lying again. That was about enough.

"David, it's time for you to go," The Doctor said, with a suddenly friendly smile.

"But Doctor, I,"he began to argue.

"No no, it's time for a long vacation. Don't come back to the shop," he grabbed David gently by the shoulders, spinning him around so he faced the stairs. "Don't even worry about it. I'll see that Vastra takes care of your expenses. Consider yourself relieved of duty, until we clean this mess up."

"What about the robbery?" The ex-Puritan worried.

"I'm The Doctor, I'll have it back before you can say Raxicorifalpritorious," he gave him a light push. "Enjoy your time off." David sent one more befuddled look his way, before trudging up the steps. The Doctor waited until he heard the bell on the front door tingle.

At first, he wasn't quite sure how to approach this. Jack was hiding information, that much was obvious. He didn't know if it was about this, or something else, but now there was more at stake then there was this morning. An old, dangerous enemy could possibly be rearing his ugly head, and a fragment of one of the most dangerous weapons to ever exist was now missing. It was time for Jack to put his cards on the table. The dealer was done for the night. He turned to the former Time Agent, his eyes serious.

"It's time to stop playing games, Jack. Why are you here?"

"Doctor... I," he started to placate.

"Don't start that. This is bigger than whatever you don't want me to know. Tell me. Now." Jack stared at him for a few moments, his eyes steely. He finially sucked in a deep breath, relenting.

"Unit sent me to find you, because someone robbed the Black Archive," his nerves were evident under the hard surface. If Jack Harkness was nervous, there was a serious problem.

"Who did it?" The Doctor asked suspiciously, "and what did they take?" That was perhaps the most important part of this.

"Unit didn't want me to, but I investigated it. It was The Great Intelligence." The Doctor sighed through his gritted teeth. Perfect. Him again. He had been dealing with The Great Intelligence and his plans far too much of late.

"He took my Vortex Manipulator." A cold nausea setteled in The Doctor's stomach, for the second time today. The Great Intelligence could nearly time travel just through force of will. A Manipulater, no matter how sub-TARDIS the technology was, allowed the same basic function. Someone with the evil intentions of The Great Intelligence, was made even more dangerous if he could travel anywhere, at any time.

But this didn't make sense, for one reason.

"I don't understand how that's possible... I have your Manipulator." He had taken it years ago, when he had saved Gallifrey, with the help of a pair of his former selves.

"Kate said you wouldn't know they had it. And I wasn't supposed to tell you." Jack shrugged, then held up his wrist, showing off the complex computer attached to his wrist, "This one belonged to someone named River Song."

Then it dawned on him... Clara, his old companion, was the last one to use it. She was the only one that knew he had it, besides him. She must have given it back to Kate. It made him feel dirty that she would do that to him. Yet... he understood it. She always had good intentions, even when they were misguided.

Besides, the presence of River's Manipulator was more interesting here. Were it not for the dark overtone in general, he would have smiled. The old girl was still manipulating events in his favor, whether he knew it, or not. He would have to remember that, and return the favor one day.

"How did you end up here?" he asked, "and why did you lie, Jack. You should know better. I'm The Doctor, the man with the plan. You can't hide anything from me."

"Someone told me this is where you turn up. And I lied because I know about events that... could happen. You know how that goes." He did know how that went. The future was delicate, and easily effected. The more one knew, the more likely the exact events they knew about would pass. It was a dangerous game to play.

So, of course, he wanted to know what _he_ did.

"Of course I do. But, you need to tell me Jack. It could mean everything." Harkness only shook his head.

"No, Doctor. And I won't budge on this." Something about all of this set him on edge, and he didn't like it, but he had the feeling this was as far as he would get with Jack. He would wait awhile. As events progressed, he may come around.

"I do know one thing, I've never heard the name Morbius before, so it has nothing to do with this. This is something else entirely." The Doctor nodded in reply. He wasn't sure if he cound completely trust Jack on that, but he was giving him the benefit of the doubt. It didn't mean he wouldn't keep an eye on him.

"You know, there is one thing that doesn't fit here,"The Doctor mused. He stared into his screwdriver, as though it held the answers.

"What's that?"

"Morbius... there is only one Morbius. He only built one body. And ,unless David's brains have turned into mashed potatoes since we last met, and he's forgotten how to count, there were two attackers, which begs the question..."

"Who is the other man?" Jack finished.

"No, wrong," The Doctor corrected, "why, is the other man."

"That's terrible grammar," Jack snorted.

"Thankyou for destroying the theatrics, Handles" The Doctor bit. Great, another person to correct him.

"What? What's a Handles?" Jack asked with a raised brow.

"Never mind. Let's just get out of here, it's already dark out. I know you probably have a gun stuffed somewhere disgusting, but that doesn't mean I want to get caught in this neighborhood in the dead of night. To many no goodnicks hanging about." The Doctor nodded. He needed to think. Not only about himself, or Jack, or the Epoch Lens, but about Morbius, and if he was going to drag Sarah Jane into this. He was already coming to a decision, and it made his hearts ache.

* * *

Sarah Jane stood upon the darkened terrace, the battle scared planetscape below bathed in blue. The night sky was tinted pink by a near by nebula, and it would look beautiful were it not for the army below.

Stretched out as far as the eye could see, were the monsters, her oldest foes. Shaped like salt shakers, their eye stalk-topped heads all pointed upwards. Thousands, and thousands of blue lights glowed, and their battle cry was shrill, unanimous, and entirely Dalek.

"Exterminate! Exterminate!"

"Is it not impressive?" Came the cool tone behind her.

She turned around, finding the tall, debonair man in Victorian garb behind her. His beak nose overlooked a smug smile, and he placed his signature top hat upon his head, covering his neat grey hair. He was flanked by a pair of silver, metal men, their expressionless faces staring straight at her. One turned it's handled head to her opponant, then back to her.

"It's disgusting," she spat, "an army built for genocide." He only smiled.

"It is the future. It is freedom from the tyranny of The Doctor, and from all of the Time Lords."

"A universe under control," one Cyberman droaned.

"Order, Ms. Smith." he sneered, "though I would not expect a companion of The Doctor to understand."

"Order? Not if I have anything to say about it!" The familar rage filled, Scottish voice shouted from behind, over the din.

With a jump, Sarah Jane awoke, sitting bolt upright. Sweat drenched her, and it took her a moment to remember where she was. She looked around the bedroom of Vastra's home. A comfortable room, the wooden furniture was sparse but well crafted; care no longer taken in modern times.

She glanced out the window, finding a sunlit view of London. The factories in the distance puffed relentless smoke, mixing with the fluffy morning clouds, creating a haze across the sky. The noise of carrages, and boisterous voices were commen. She was surprised that she had slept at all.

She rose from the plush bed, placing her feet on the cold, wooden floor. Once again, nightmares had plagued her sleep. She only had dreams such as these here and there, but they always bothered her when she did. The Daleks she could understand, having just escaped them. It was obvious that being in such close proximity to Handles was effecting her.

What she did not understand, was the old man. She was pretty sure he was The Great Intelligence, having briefly seen him in The Doctor's memories. She could not understand why she would dream of him, having never met him. Perhaps it was her brain subconsciously making the connection between he, and the Spoonhead from not long ago. Maybe it was just a manifestation of her stress the day before. Maybe she was over thinking things.

She got dressed, noting that The Doctor had left her clean clothing on her dresser. It was a simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and an argyle sweater. Not what she would have chosen, but The Doctor had always had discerning taste in clothing.

She changed, and checked her phone, which had long ago been connected to the TARDIS. Ever since, it would work where ever, whenever, anywhere in time, and space. She had eight new messages, all from The Doctor. As she read them, she couldn't help but smile.

Ten thirty-five, p.m."Sarah, are you asleep? I'm on my way back with McFlirty."

Ten fourty. "You're asleep aren't you? You're not even reading this."

Eleven ten. "I left you some new clothes in your room. You snore loudly. You should let me check you for Monoid Lung Congestion."

Eleven fifteen. "Scanned you with the sonic while you were sleeping, no Monoid Lung Congestion."

Midnight. "Are you still asleep? Why? Anyway, I'm checking for more disappearances in other times."

Twelve twenty-seven. "Can you believe the Hephestians have me listed as "The Professor?" Remind me to scold them later.

One ten. "Do you think I should change it to Dr. Funkenstein? Or keep Dr. Disco?"

Two o'clock. "Found something interesting, tell you in the morning."

It was obvious to her, someone had drank too much coffee last night. She wondered what he and Jack found out last night. She hoped it was nothing serious, it would be nice to just take it easy for a few days. Adventure was nice and all, but the quiet times were underrated.

She left the guest room, and headed down stairs, finding the house empty. She could hear a light clanging coming from the back garden however, and she followed the sound.

She walked out into the beautiful back garden, a stunning sight to behold. Flowers, and bushes of all kinds lined the green grass, still somehow in bloom with winter coming. Pretty ivys scaled the walls, and a pleasant breeze tickled her face.

She found the source of the sounds immediately. In a clear area of the lawn, were Vastra, and Jenny. The couple had donned tight fitted, black cat suits, and both held thin katanas. Vastra, and she paced around one another, then went at one another. Jenny struck first, then Vastra returned, both stopping to pace around one another. She heard Vastra give instruction to her smiling wife. It was obvious that this was an activity that they both enjoyed.

Near by, on a stone bench, sat The Doctor. He had his jacket off, and was instead wearing a black hoodie over his buttened up shirt. She thought that was quite odd. Why the sudden outfit change, as normally once he found something he stuck to it. Not only that, she wondered why he had stopped wearing Victorian clothes in Victorian times. He was so odd sometimes.

She walked over, and sat down, jarring him from his work. He looked up with a smile.

"Good morning Sarah," he greeted, "about time you got up."

"I slept nine hours, Doctor,"she smirked, "not all of us stay up all hours of the night like you."

"You humans, always sleeping your lives away," he mused.

"I always thought it was funny how you pretend not to sleep. You relize that you don't fool anyone with that." She watched as Vastra and Jenny spared again, with Jenny ending up tripped on the ground.

"I do need to keep up the mystique," he chuckled.

"What is this?" She asked, pinching the soft fabric of his hood.

"I have no idea!" He exclaimed, "I found it in the Tardis after I went looking for your clothes, and thought, "why not?"

"I like it, less formal but..."

"Still dignified. All I need is a pair of sunglasses, and maybe I'll actully look 'cool' for once," she couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but he seemed happy.

"This is the interesting thing you wanted to show me?" She asked. He nodded. And here she thought it was about the robbery.

"What happened with Jack last night? Is everything alright?" She watched as the smile faded from his face. Obviously it was not good.

"No, it isn't. The thieves knocked David unconscious," he replied.

"Is he alright?" She hoped he was.

"Nothing a day or two of bed rest won't fix. He was more shaken by what robbed him."

"What was it then?" It must have been some kind of alien. She couldn't see a human shaking David after everything he had seen. The Doctor hesitated.

"They weren't normal men. They looked... built. Out of bodies," he said darkly. She blinked a few times, admittedly surprised. That wasn't something she heard every day. Yet, she had heard it, albeit decades ago.

"Like... Morbius?" she asked. She remembered that adventure particularly well. A Time Lord building a body from alien corpses, because all that remained was his brain, was difficult to forget. Not to mention, she was blind for half of it.

"Unfortunately, that's exactly what it sounds like," he confirmed.

"You don't think..."she left that hanging.

"I'm not sure yet but... I'm leaning toward it." he answered honestly. She didn't know what to think.

She knew how dangerous Morbius was when he was alive. He was a genocidal madman, with an entire cult devoted to him, as though he were a God. She did not want to jump to conclusions about this yet, but she did want to prepare it. It was simply intelligent.

"What did they steal," she dreaded asking that.

"A fragment of the Epoch Lens," he answered.

"Which is?"

"Okay..." he took a deep breath, "There was once a Time Lord, called The Clockmaker. The Clockmaker was interested more in time itself, then actually travelling through it. Very boring if you ask me."

"He experimented with Time Streams. For example, ways to travel backwards down ones own timeline, what would happen if one met themselves under a variety of circumstances, and erasing streams all together."

"That couldn't have made the Time Lords too fond of him," Sarah Jane commented. They didn't respect those who didn't follow their rules, so, she couldn't see them wanting him around.

"Oh no, they hated him. I wasn't a fan myself. The longer it went on the more... unhinged he became. His experiments became cruel after awhile. They say he once convinced a man to go back, and kill his child self, just so he could see what happened."

"That's terrible," she couldn't imagine any one derranged enough to do that. Then a thought occurred to her. "I thought Time Travlers couldn't travel backwards down their own Timeline."

"It's... complicated. A Time Lord can meet his future, and past selves, but he can't go backwards and change events he has already altered. Basically, it's the theory that you can only meet yourself because it was supposed to happen that way, and it preserves events that have occured. But I cannot go backwards, and stop the deaths of my friends, or others, because I've already done it, and I cannot cross my timeline that way, because it didn't happen that way originally. Do you understand?"

"I think so..." it was all so complex, but what he was saying was that an event with multiple regenerations of the same man were only possible, because it was how events were supposed to transpire. "What you're saying is, you can only go back down your own time line when it is, for lack of a better term, supposed to happen?"

"Right. The problem with The Clockmaker was, he invented a machine that could travel anywhere down ones own Timeline, even when it wasn't supposed to be possible. He called it The Oblivion Engine. Stupid name."

"That couldn't have done any good,"she knew all about paradoxs, and the harm they caused.

"He was put on trial, for his meddling, but he ran, taking all of his obscene inventions with him. All but one. The Epoch Lense." He sighed heavily. She could see the strain in his wizened eyes.

"I shudder to think what it does..."

"It's a De-mat gun,"he answered. A shadow fell on her. She knew of De-mat technology. It didn't kill. It erased, like the victim never existed.

"Not just a De-mat gun, the most powerful one ever. Most of them erased between seven to fifteen thousand years, more than enough to cover almost any being, and the majority of Time Lords. The Epoch Lens... that one didn't have a year limit. It didn't matter if someone was two years old, or two billion, it erases it like it was never there." She couldn't imagine something that powerful in the wrong hands.

"You said it was a fragment though? It's broken?" That gave her some hope.

"I stole it during the Time War. I didn't want the Daleks to get their plungers on it, nor the Time Lords. It was too powerful. And I broke it into four pieces,and hid them. Now, it's the only De-mat gun not completely destroyed in the Time War."

"Ok... so, if we go, and get the other pieces, we should be alright, no matter who stole it." The Doctor sighed again, leaniing over, and rubbing his face with his hands, before steepling his fingers.

"It wont be that easy. I don't know where the other pieces are." he replied.

"But I thought..."

"I used the TARDIS, and erased the locations from my memory, in case I ever went bad. In hindsight... not the smartest thing I've ever done. The only one I remembered was the one here."

She sat back, trying to absorb all of that. The danger facter had just jumped to twelve out of ten.

"Well... this has all gone to pot, hasn't it," she nodded, drawing a smile from the old Time Lord.

"When doesn't it?" he shrugged.

"We'll figure this out. We always do. There are people who panic... then there's us. I have faith," she tried to comfort.

"In what?"he asked suddenly serious.

"The two idiots in the flying police box," she chuckled.

"That form is egregious," he shook his head, staring at Jenny and Vastra.

"Time to show these kids how it's done?" She smirked.

"Of corse,"the Scottsman stood, and began walking over to the women. "Alright, now I know Myomoto Mushashi may have been a hobo, but he did teach me that..." she shook her head, with a smile. She had a feeling she wouldn't be doing that often in the future.

* * *

Jack watched his target intently as he loitered on the street corner in London's East End. Surveillance wasn't his favorite job by any stretch, but today, he hated it even more. Everyone gave Whitechaple a hard time, but to him, Bethnal Green would always be far worse. The streets were constantly clogged with people, most of them destitute beyond belief.

The majority of families here lived in one room homes, without any kind of sanitary living conditions. This led to Jack's least favorite part of this neighborhood; the stench. The overbearing smell of refuse, rot, and body odor was amazing. It was almost pleasant by comparison when one caught the metalic odor of the nearby foundry, or the sweet, perfume of the opium dens.

Even with the constant presence of police, it was still a dangerous district. No one looked down an ally while they walked, lest they see something terrible, and no intelligent man walked down them. Riots were constant, as the anger between Arabic immigrants, and the native British thugs intensified. Beyond that, industrial accidents were common, as were fires. All in all, a wonderful place to live.

Filth not withstanding, Jack was herr for a reason; the enormous, rectangular building on the corner. The brick building was dingy, and dark, with chimneys that constantly puffed smoke, and windows so filthy, one could hardly see inside.

The Nichol Street Workhouse was of great curiosity to him. It was a converted wool factory, and in perfect position as far as attracting the destitute. There were two problems here, as far as Jack could see.

The first, was practically every person who he, and Vastra had investigated the disappearances of, was headed here. No one ever heard from them, or saw them since, and they were all people no one would miss. That on the face, was not all too odd; once people enterd work houses, they were rarely seen after that. It was essentially legalized slave labor.

However, the second thing that disturbed him, was there was no future record of the establishment. That was a benefit of being a time traveller; one could look into things from the future to gain information on the past. The problem was, there was no record. At all. No registry, no years of buisness, not even what happend to the building after workhouses were shut down. According to every single source, it was a wool factory until the ninteen forties, when it was converted to produce bullets.

So then, was it mearly forgotten that it was a workhouse at one point? Or was there something else going on. Mixed with the disappearances, he had his suspicions.

She squinted as he stared, his keen eyes catching something. At first he thought it was a trick of the morning light, but he could see it through the dirty windows. For only a half a second, he saw a flash of red, electrical light. In a time when electricity was not widespread ,and in it's infancy.

What could that be, he wondered? There was something suspicious about this place. First disappearances, all around this building, then brutal homicides, where body parts that were stolen. Following that, a robbery of a secret stash, where men, apparently made of body parts (he was seeing a trend here) stole a fragment of a powerful Time Lord weapon. Now, he swore he saw a red flash in a workhouse. All things considered, now he was even more suspicious. He needed to bring this back to The Doctor. He had that gut feeling something was wrong. And he was going to trust that.

He was about to turn to walk away, when he saw another flash, this time green. Now he was sure. There was something abnormal in there. And abnormal was The Doctor's speciality.


	5. We Ravaged Few

_(Author's Note: Alright, so few things here, Outlaw Gents and Shady Ladies. One, this story is going to start seeming as though it is going nnon-cannon. The key word is seem. It will not go AU or the like; I have a plan. You will just need to give it time :) Two, review guys! Come on! I see the views, and there are a ton! But your not reviewing. I really want your thoughts! Thanks to Dede42 and BannerFanner for taking the time to do so. Review, please, twll me what you think :) ok so I think thats about it. Let the madness begin)_

"Oh how very charming, in the depressing, maudlin, feel yourself getting cancer sort of way," The Doctor groused, peeking out from the ally.

"What did you expect? This is the one of the worst districts in the city," snorted Jack.

"Why don't the bad guys ever set up a lair somewhere nice? Like a rose garden or in Paris," Sarah Jane sighed.

"Now, now, we can't jump to any conclusions Sarah," The Doctor narrowed his eyes, as another red flash came from in the windows, "for all we know, it could be a couple of Vrood in there having a rave."

"What's wrong with you?" Jack asked rhetorically.

"I said it was possible, I didn't say it was likely," came his dry reply. He twiddled with the sonic screwdriver, checking the readings again. "Especially not with those radiation levels."

The triumvirate had been standing in the ally directly across the street from the Nichol Street Workhouse for the last half hour. When Jack had come to The Doctor with his suspicions, he had jumped on it. He knew all of his evidence was circumstantial at best, but Jack was a good investigator. He was intelligent and clever. If he was wrong there was no harm done.

He had to admit, there were strange goings on in the antiquated building. For starters, it was dead quiet. No sounds of work, or machinery; not even muffled voices. He also hadn't seen a soul. No one walked up to the windows, nor tended the grounds, which were unkempt and choked with weeds. Then there were the aforementioned lights. He couldn't rightly say what they were or what their source was, but was certainly not normal for this time period.

Now he was wishing they had indeed brought backup. Vastra had offered to come, with Jenny, and Strax, in case it was Morbius or a similar threat. He had rejected that. There was no need to endanger them. He barely wanted to take Jack and Sarah.

"Alright, so Jack, you try to find a way through the back. Sarah and I will take the front. That way..."

"Whoa there, cowboy. Since when is it a good idea to split up? Strength in numbers, Doc." Jack interrupted.

"Since I said so that's when," snipped the Time Lord.

"Secondarily, why don't I just use the Vortex Manipulator and warp to the second floor?" The Doctor shook his head. So childish.

"If it is Morbius, and he is even a quarter of the Time Lord he used to be, he'd feel that hunk of junk on your wrist coming a mile away," he waved off.

"Fine, then why don't you and Sarah sneak in the back and I'll go in the front. I'm still immortal after all," reasoned the Time Agent.

"Because I already decided you were going around back!" argued The Doctor.

"And if he starts shooting the second the doors open?"

"My favorite word, run!"

"I still... hey," Jack turned away from the argument, looking into the street. The Doctor too saw Sarah Jane, screwdriver in hand, sneaking across, and keeping low. "Where's she going?"

"Unlocking the gates you idiots!" she motioned in aggravation with her hands. Jack and The Doctor glanced at each other, and followed.

With a loud warble, Sarah Jane unlocked the route iron gate with her sonic screwdriver. With a creek it opened into the unkempt grounds. She glanced at the imposing, wooden, front doors, then back at The Doctor. He gave her a quick nod, and looked back at Jack.

With an overextended eye roll, Jack started creeping around the back, disappearing around the side of the building. Sarah and The Doctor crept to the main door.

"I'm going to take my chances and ask. Do we have a plan?" Sarah Jane whispered.

"Other than somehow stop Morbius and finally finish watching Monarch of the Glen? No. None what so ever," he shrugged. She shot him a wry smile.

"Fantastic." She ran her glowing screwdriver along the door's seem, and The Doctor heard it click. Holding his own sonic tightly, they crossed the threshold into the workhouse.

He was immediately assaulted by a pungent, caustic stench he could not rightly identify. It reminded him of formaldehyde, but more acidic. Sarah Jane screwed up face, covering her mouth with her hand.

The interior was equally dingy as the outside. Its colorless walls were coated with dust and filth, and the floor was equally dirty. He could hardly see out of the windows in this entry hall. The complete lack of lighting made it all the worse.

He noted something out of place immediately. A rough hole had been sawed in the floor, and a thick, metal pipe stuck up from it. It was bolted to the floor, and ran down the hall and through a wall, next to one of two doors leaving this area.

"Do you feel that?" Sarah whispered, scratching her hand at the air. He hadn't until she mentioned it. The air had that static feeling- like when one was near a live wire or in the radius of an EMP pulse. Barley noticeable, but still there.

"Come on, let's check this out," he pointed to the door with his screwdriver. It was already evident that something not-Victorian was afoot. He had a sinking feeling they were in the right place.

* * *

Vastra sat at her small table, in her lush living room. Normally she found the plants around her to be a comfort, but not so today. She stared into to piping-hot cup of tea, her reptilian eyes far away. She had completely ignored the drink she usually enjoyed. There was too much on her mind.

The Doctor and Jack had informed her about their suspicions, which Morbius was not only alive, but was operating out of a workhouse in Bethal Greene. They believed he had been the culprit in the recent robbery, and was now in possession of a fragment of one of the most powerful weapons in the known universe.

The Doctor had asked her not to come. He was always reluctant to ask for assistance, and she understood that. He had witnessed two thousand years, or more, of death. He felt responsible for most of it, even what was not his fault. He tried to avoid it, especially in his friends.

But Vastra knew things he did not. Jack had told her of his own adventures, of his meeting with The Corsair. He told her that she was trying to save the universe, and one single prophecy that disturbed her the most; if The Doctor regenerated, all would be lost.

She was not told how or when he would be killed, but that it would be soon if it was not averted. She tried to impart the severity of the situation on Sarah Jane. She had been as successful as could be expected, considering that she did not give nearly as much information as she knew. The situation was delicate enough. She did not want to tip the balance in the wrong direction.

But now, as she sat there, she could not help but wonder if she was taking the right course. What if here was where The Doctor was meant to regenerate? What if, by not helping, she would be dooming him, and everyone else? What if by sitting by, she was causing the events she so feared? Yet, the opposite was also possible. If she did help, could she be setting in stone events that she feared? Would she cause what she tried to stop? Would her attempt at prevention end up the catalyst?

She shut her eyes, taking in a deep breath, the sweet smell of the tea calming her. In that calm moment, one answer screamed over all the rest.

If it was her, or Jenny, or Strax, he would come, no matter the consequences. He was The Doctor; never cruel or cowardly. He never gave up. He never gave in. She opened her eyes. She would do the same.

"Strax, Jenny! Come here please!" She shouted through the house. She stood up. It seemed her tea would need to wait. After a few moments, her wife and butler came in.

"What is it, ma'am?" asked her maid, with Strax patiently waiting.

"Jenny, retrieve our weapons and suits. The real ones," she said. Jenny's face turned surprised for a moment, but she regained her composure quickly.

"Right away!" Jenny replied as she pushed passed Strax and hurried off.

"Strax prepare the carriage and..." she stopped for a moment, unsure if this was really what she wanted to ask of him.

"Yes?" he questioned. She saw no other choice.

"Retrieve your gun and armor," was her begrudged sighed.

"Yes!" he yelled, a mad grin spreading across his face, "yes right away! For the glory of the Sontaran Empire!" He took off on a run, his cackle echoing through the house. She couldn't help but wonder if all of this was a mistake.

* * *

Sarah Jane and The Doctor snuck down the dark hall. The only light here was from the dirt caked windows, and even that was paltry at best. The further they followed the pipe, the more the static feeling persisted. She had a feeling that meant they were going in the right direction.

Abruptly, a low rumble began to emanate from somewhere nearby, the floor beneath their feet vibrating. That couldn't be normal, not in this time. She already had the overreaching feeling of dread and it was only getting worse. She tried to push it aside, gripping her sonic screwdriver all the more tightly, continuing on.

The pair rounded the bend, coming to another hall. The pipe they were following suddenly cut back into the wall, though they could see a door down the way. The humming was even louder here. She followed The Doctor down to the door.

He laid his hand on the wood, and she could see it vibrating. She shot The Doctor an unsure look, and he returned with a nod. He placed his hand on the knob, and found it unlocked. They both took a deep breath, and he pushed it open, the pair entered.

This had obviously been the main factory floor at one time, as the room was enormous. All the mechanisms to make wool however, were gone, replaced instead by horrors untold.

Most noticeable were the massive Tesla coils scattered around the room. Some were the height of humans, while others reached almost to the ceiling high above. Haphazardly strung wires connected them all together, lightning coursing across it all. In one area was a massive vat of a viscous yellow fluid, a clockwork arm constantly stirring and spinning the steaming concoction. Sarah had seen the compound before. It was Sontaran Clone Feed. A cluster of tubes leached from it, dragging along the floor. In another section, she spotted some kind of glowing, metal pod, large enough to hold a man. Red lights spun within, and she noted swarms of strange, metal insects swirling and skittering inside. Nanotechnology if she had ever seen it.

Around from that was a massive incinerator, though this one was from the future to be sure. Created of a clear box, its ceiling was a laser that annihilated anything placed inside. Dominating the opposite wall stood a massive reactor of some kind. Made of three silos filled with glowing red goo, connected to a complex looking computer system, it seemed to be the source of the vibrations.

The floor was a mess of tubes, pipes and coils, as were the upper catwalks high above. Everything seemed to eventually come back to the reactor, obviously the power system, except for one pipe, which snaked back through the door at the other end of the room. Everything converged on a metal table in the middle of room. A lone figure stood hunched over it.

He was shirtless, revealing his deathly pale skin. Sarah noted a spider web of scarification across his chest and abdomen, marring his muscular form. Completely hairless, his face was a mask of concentration. His nose looked as though it had been broken more than once, set beneath a pair of unnatural, orange eyes that glowed in the low light. With a sneer, he stared down at the creation on the table.

At first glance, the creation appeared human, but Sarah noted the disturbing additions. Its bald head appeared to be stitched onto a bulky body. One arm was a thick, green claw, while the other smaller and delicate, as though it may have been a woman's. One leg was fur covered and cloven from the calf down, while the other belonged to a dark-skinned human. All of the wounds were filled with some strange, copper metal, courtesy of the nanotechnology she would guess.

As if it weren't disgusting enough, more of the same creations loitered around. One she noted wore mismatched clothing on its different limbs; an older head topped with a baseball cap, set on a hairy, fur clad torso that looked as though it belonged to a cave man. She saw that his left hand was a reptilian claw, reminding her of Vastra. Near that, a cycloptic-headed creature loaded discarded limbs into the incinerator, it's strong, insectoid torso made even stronger by its pair of human arms. It was truly a thing of nightmares.

Some, like a creature with a Rinocerid Judoon head upon a stumpy, Sontaran torso, carried laser guns from the future. Others, including a monstrosity with the bulbous head of a Raxacoricofallapatorian on the cacti-like torso of a Vinvocci carried things like sledge hammers or knives. The more she looked the more disturbing creatures she saw. All of them were not only spliced with other creatures, but with that same metal.

Sarah Jane had seen more terrible things than most people, but she felt like she was going to vomit. Never had she imagined sickness on this scale. Even the horror of Morbius himself hadn't been this disgusting. How could anyone do this? How many had been killed, and harvested? She stifled a gag, covering her mouth, tears rushing to her eyes. How... how could someone do this?

The man at the table held a long wire in one hand, as he plugged a tube from the vat into the creature's stomach. The wire sparked with electricity, and the scientist jabbed it hard into it. The room pulsed as the coils fired up with static. The body on the table twitched and jerked, the lightning turning a blood red as it gained power. The clone feed bubbled as it was sucked down the hose, and the copper metal on the creature glowed with power. She watched in horrific awe as the lightning turned green, and the creator pulled it away. Flipping a switch, the coils powered down, and he violently yanked the hose from the monster, clone feed spilling onto the floor.

The smoking corpse stayed still for a few moments, before its arms jerked. Its eyes blinked and head shook. With a pained yell it swung its legs over, and stood on shaky legs. It shuffled a few feet, before turning to its master.

The man waved it away, and it did what it was told. Then his burning gaze fell on Sarah Jane and The Doctor. A cruel grin spread across his face.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise. I have been expecting your arrival for quite some time," the deep voiced man stepped around the table opening his arms wide. "It has been quite some time, hasn't it Doctor?"

The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the madman, a scowl on his face.

"Who are you? What the hell have you done here?" Growled The Scotsman.

"What a shame," he condescended, "you truly don't recognize me, the great, powerful Morbius?" He shouted with a crazed grin. Fear spread through Sarah Jane, even more so than before. It was true. He was back.

"I'm sorry, Morbius, you didn't look like Voldemort last time I saw you. You looked a bit more like a fish-bowl with legs," The Doctor spat back.

"A body is a body, I would assume you would know that better than anyone," his sneer was dripping with conceit.

"He never went to the lengths you did," Sarah Jane defended her friend. She tried not to let the fear leak into her voice.

"Why, Sarah Jane. I apologize, I did not recognize you. You have aged quite beautifully," he winked, making her skin crawl with pure revulsion.

"What is this? What have you done to these people?!" The Doctor's voice shook with rage, barely holding in his temper. His eyes were the clearest blue she had ever seen.

"All of this? I had to use a little ingenuity, because of you," he pointed with a smile, "You see, when I awoke, I found that a great deal of time had passed. My cult? Destroyed. My Empire? Dismantled. The name Morbius was all but forgotten."

"So, without followers, servants or friends, what is a man to do? Even you parade around with an entourage, so I thought to myself, if The Doctor can abduct impressionable, young, human women, then why can't I?"

"Abduct? I..." The Doctor started.

"Unfortunately," Morbius continued, obnoxiously drowning him out, "I find most humans insufferable at best and contemptible at worst. So, I decided to put my considerable, surgical talents to the task, and create some friends who are less... annoying. Clone feed makes an excellent substitute for blood, and with nano-machines to fix any damage accidently rendered, anything was possible. You would be surprised how compatible human organs are with almost anything else to be found in this galaxy.

"This... this is an abomination!" The Doctor shouted.

"I wouldn't exactly go that far. I mean, they certainly won't be doing brain surgery but they will suit my needs just fine. I've decided to call them The Ravaged. It has a nice, sinister ring to it," the disturbed Time Lord shrugged with a disgusting chuckle.

"You are nothing more than a murderer. A genocidal monster!" The Doctor countered. Morbius snorted and smiled, narrowing his orange orbs.

"And you are not?" The Doctor did not answer, Morbius' smile growing. "Perhaps you should tell that to the Daleks, or the Cybermen. Did you explain this to the Sycorax when their ship hurtled to terra firma? Or maybe you told that to the Sontarans before you destroyed an entire division? I hear you even tried to spare the Boneless? Did it hurt to try not to kill them? And let's not forget... The Time Lords." His face turned serious for the first time, a murderous look in his eyes.

"Obviously you don't have your facts straight. What a surprise," The Doctor retorted.

"Oh, I do. I have researched your long, bloody life since last we met. Some accounts say you saved that sorry excuse for a planet, others say it was blown into oblivion. Regardless you did us all a favor because they are no longer here. This universe is a far better place without the Time Lords. A race of hypocritical, self-centered, ego maniacs. We all know, there is only room enough in this universe for one of tho..."

He stopped, his face turning to a pained grimace. He grunted, looking down, his teeth gritted together. A growl escaped him, his fists clenched. His muscles flexed in strain. His growl turned to a scream.

Sarah watched as he doubled over. The scars along his chest and head opened up, revealing the flesh and blood beneath. His muscles shook as the flesh spread, looking as though he would split at all of the faults. Just as she started to glimpse the white bones beneath, the skin re-laced, his scar reforming. He hadn't even bled despite his wounds.

He gasped for breath, standing straight once more. Sarah tried to figure out what she had just witnessed. The Doctor echoed her exact question, a look of pity mixed with aversion in his dark eyes.

"Morbius... what have you done to yourself?" he murmured.

"Not all of us are allowed to beat the rules of regeneration like you," his voice dark, "and there are other beings who would benefit from you never existing other than I." That confirmed it to Sarah Jane. Someone was helping him. Who or what could be insane enough to do that, she couldn't fathom, but it was almost proof. Someone had intentionally resurrected one of the cruelest men in history.

"Is that what this is about? Me? Killing me?"

"No, destroying you. Everything you've done, everything you will do. Gone, like it never happened." He picked up a long, dark red gun barrel, and held it up. "Only three more pieces to go." The Epoch Lens.

"I'll stop you. You won't do this. You will pay for what you have done," he growled. The Time Lord laughed.

"How? Kill me? You never had the intestinal fortitude for one on one murder. You were always about it on a mass scale."

"He might not, but I will!" A different voice yelled from above. Sarah Jane, The Doctor and Morbius all looked up to find Jack on the catwalks. His laser pistol, theVillengard Special, was in his hands. He did not hesitate. He aimed and fired, the glowing projectile streaking toward Morbius.

At the last second the Time Lord ducked, ripping his own, green glowing pistol from his pocket, and fired back. Morbius' aim was true hitting Jack flush in the face. He fell dead.

"Kill the girl, capture the Time Lord. Actually, kill him, just make sure it isn't too many times!" he yelled. He pointed his gun at Sarah Jane.

The Doctor was faster, his sonic screwdriver warbling, aimed at the gun. As he pulled the trigger, the gun erupted into a cloud of sparks, eliciting a curse from him.

Sarah dove aside anyway as a stream of red lasers came from the Sontaran mutant, hiding behind one of the coils. The Doctor rushed toward Morbius but was forced into cover behind the vat of clone feed.

"Execute protocol twenty five," Morbius yelled. As he did, a loud siren blared, coming from the reactor. "I do hope you survive this Doctor! I need you alive just a bit longer!" He stalked toward the opposite door as his creatures rushed forward, their fire pelting their cover.

"I need to disable the reactor before it explodes!" The Doctor yelled. She watched as he pointed his sonic at one of the monsters, its laser rifle exploding in its hands.

"He's getting away! We can't let that happen either!" Sarah yelled back. She pointed her own tool at one of the other Tesla coils, activating it. Lightning sparked from it, right into a pair of Ravaged charging her position with hammers. They needed Jack back. She hoped he was still immortal. If not they were messed over.

As if on cue, she saw him leap from the catwalk, landing with a crunch on the back of the Sontaran. The Raxacoricofallapatorian Ravaged immediately turned swinging at him with a hammer. Jack was faster, dodging back, shooting his gun point blank into its temple.

The Doctor was on the move, jumping behind a Tesla coil, trying to reach the reactor, a mass of angry plasma painting where he had been standing. Sarah returned this time, her sonic activating another coil, the pair of attacking Ravaged flying backwards. Jack took cover against the incinerator, peeking around, cracking off a few shots. It looked like they had this in hand, she was going after Morbius.

Just as she thought it, she saw the group come running from the opposite door, and her heart sunk. At least ten more of the Ravaged rushed out from the door Morbius had disappeared through. A barrage of bullets and laser fire came with them, pelting their cover relentlessly.

They were out of range of the sonics, but Jack returned fire, clipping the arm of Judoon- Diplosian hybrid. He ducked back as machine gun fire splattered where he had been. Sarah glanced back at The Doctor. He had made it to the reactor in the chaotic fight, and although he was staying low, he had ripped open the front panel. They needed to protect him. There was a rifle on the floor, just ahead. If only she could reach it.

Suddenly, a great explosion rocked the building. Dust billowed through the air, and glass rained down from the windows. At first, she had thought it was the reactor, but the gout of flame had come from ahead, near their enemies.

As the smoke and dust cleared, she saw the three figures standing in the rubble-filled hole in the wall, and she recognized them immediately. One was a stocky Sontaran, now clad in dark blue battle armor, and holding a glowing laser gun. Behind him were two women, one Human, one Silurian. Both wore fitted cat suits, and held thin katanas.

"You are surrounded!" Strax shouted facing the mutant men, "surrender your women and your intellectuals to the glory of the Sontar..." his speech was interrupted by a spray of gunfire clanking off of his armor.

She watched as he smacked down his battle shield of his helmet, returning fire. She could hear his mad laughter as the dwarf killing machine ran headlong into the crowd, his gun ablaze. Vastra and Jenny followed suit, their katanas grazing the ground as they ran. The Ravaged scattered into cover, more joining the frey. The room erupting into war again.

Sarah looked back, seeing The Doctor still working on the reactor. He was distracted. Good. She didn't need him to worry. She looked at Jack, who was looking back at her. She raised a brow, and nodded toward the door.

He nodded in reply. He understood what she meant to do. He came out of cover, letting loose a barrage of plasma. He was providing cover fire. She took a deep breath. She had to catch Morbius, before it was too late.

Sarah Jane stood and started to run. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Everyone's lives depended on it, but none more than The Doctor.


	6. Devourer of Chaos

_(Author's Note: Dedicated to Uncle T. May you rest in the arms of The Father for eternity. I will love you forever and I look forward to seeing you again one day. Rest easy. Your life was well lived and your journey is at an end. Secondarily, Morbius' TARDIS was designed by my best friend MirricatBlackwood. Give her love if you please)_

Sarah Jane had always hated war. She hated violence. It never solved anything. All it did was spread death. But as she charged through the workhouse-turned-battlefield, she could not think of a battle worth fighting more than this one.

The crimes Morbius had committed here were monstrous. Inhumane. Evil. To desecrate and destroy so many people, people who were innocent, were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just so he could build slaves. It went far beyond any depravity she had ever seen. It surpassed the Daleks, The Master, Sutek; all of them. Nothing compared.

He needed to be stopped, no matter the cost. He couldn't be allowed to do this. He couldn't be allowed to hurt people. He also couldn't be allowed to assemble the Epoch Lens. For a monster like Morbius to have such control over who existed and who did not... she did not want to live in that world.

She ran as fast as she could. Ducking low as laser fire zapped in front of her. She saw two blasts hit the Ravaged targeting her, courtesy of Jack Harkness.

"Is this all you pathetic weaklings can offer?!" She heard Strax bellow. She saw the Sontaran warrior marching relentlessly toward a group of Ravaged. Their bullets plinked harmlessly off of his armor, like someone throwing stones at a tank. He returned fire in a blaze of red plasma. "A paltry showing indeed!"

Sarah Jane saw another Ravaged, this one made of an Ogron, rushing her, only to be cut down in one swift motion by Vastra. The Silurian gave her an understanding glance, before setting back to her grim task. Her katana cut a swath before her, slashing down the Neanderthal Ravaged in a quick stroke.

Jenny was by her wife's side as another small group of Morbius' creations filtered in from another door. Though her form was not as elegant, she was just as deadly. One quick chop took down a Ravaged wearing the remains of a tattered Nazi uniform. She transitioned into a spin that tripped up another pair.

Two more blasts from Jack shot down the creatures in Sarah's way, and she jumped over the body of another. She was out of breath as she finally reached the door, leaving behind all the combat. She hoped Morbius had not escaped. If he had, God only knew what he would do.

The back room was dominated by an enormous monolith. In a hexagonal shape, it was built of black metal, rising to the ceiling in a dagger point. It hovered almost a foot off the ground, a strange green mist beneath it, but how it was decorated disturbed her the most.

Upon all sides but one, massive runic circles were carved. Sarah Jane recognized them as Gallifreyan, the language of the Time Lords. They too glowing that same strange green, an off putting shade to an already eerie machine.

The final side was the most menacing of all. Carved meticulously into it, was the visage of a man. He stood in a strong pose, his fist clenched skyward. One knee was raised, as his foot rested on the back of another man. She recognized the bald near-human with the maniacal smile. It was a carving of Morbius' new regeneration. She knew immediately what this machine was. It was his TARDIS.

More of the large pipes she had seen throughout the facility were here, all converging at the TARDIS. It was obvious now what was happening; Morbius was draining power from his time machine to power the reactor, and maybe more. The reactor was only a supplement. This was the real source.

All of the pipes had been unplugged however, and were now lying on the floor, leaking the same foul red goo found in the generator. That was why Morbius had run here; he was preparing to take off.

He was not here now though. She crept forward, toward his device. He could be inside, or elsewhere in the workhouse. She wanted to try to get the drop on him.

Then she heard the door creek behind her. She whirled around, realizing her error too late.

Morbius rushed to her from behind the door she had just come through. His hand easily found her throat. She felt her breath brutally cut off, as he simply lifted her off of the ground. She pawed at his forearm, kicking her feet to no avail as he continued walking. He finally stopped, pinning her against his monolith. The tips of her toes barely scraped the ground while she struggled.

His hand did not squeeze, instead letting up, allowing her a few seconds of gasping air, before clamping it off again. He was playing with her, like a cat with a mouse.

"My, my, aren't we the brave one," he cooed, his horrible eyes filling her vision as he leaned in. "Not many people, let alone a mere human, would be willing to come after me single handedly. They used to bring armies against me." She scratched up his strong forearm, digging in her nails. Her vision was starting to go black on the edges, her chest heaving helplessly. She couldn't pass out. If she did, she was dead and she knew it.

Morbius didn't budge beneath her assault, merely glancing disinterested at his wounds, then to her.

"What is it that makes you so different? Is it your genetics? The chemistry of your brain? Perhaps it is The Doctor and his Machiavellian influence." He cocked his head to the side, looking at one side of her face then the other. He was beginning to blur. "Regardless, I could very much use a cranium like yours."

Then her eyes caught something else. She was nearly unconscious, but she could see the shape in the door way. The shadows stance was undeniable, the way he held his gun, aimed at Morbius' back. Her savior was here. Everything went black.

* * *

Jack came out of cover shooting. The Villengard Special barked a pair of smoking balls at the Ravaged aiming at The Doctor. The partial human dropped his assault rifle as the shots hit him. He tumbled back, smashing into the vat of clone feed. With a crash the glass gave way, the boiling liquid flooding the floor.

A pair of Morbius' slaves slipped on the fluid, giving Vastra and Jenny the only opportunity they needed. Jack had seen Sarah Jane disappear through the door at the other end of the room. He intended to follow her. There was no way he was planning to allow her to face a maniac like him alone.

He glanced back at The Doctor. His hands were a blur of movement as he dismantled the generator, its discarded parts scattered on the floor around him. With Vastra, Jenny, and Strax there were more than enough people to protect him. Sarah Jane needed him more.

Unafraid, Jack ran through the battle, which was now calming down. Most of the Ravaged lay on the floor, though Jack expected Morbius had more of them. If the amount of disappearances in this time alone were any indication, Morbius had a small army at his disposal.

He rushed through the door coming to a sudden stop at the scene before him. There stood Morbius, his back to him. His arm was raised, hand around Sarah Jane's neck, lifting her off of the ground. He had her pinned against some kind of obelisk, and he could hear his cool, calm voice.

"The chemistry of your brain? Perhaps it is The Doctor's Machiavellian influence. Regardless, I could use a cranium like yours." Jack aimed his gun at Morbius' bald head, steady and sure. He wouldn't hit Sarah Jane.

He squeezed the trigger; Morbius dropped Sarah Jane and dove to the floor. Jack's blast sailed harmlessly overhead, splattering the obelisk.

Sarah Jane didn't move but Jack could see her breathing. She was alive just unconscious. Morbius jumped to his feet, and angry scowl on his face, orange eyes smoldering with rage, his stride toward him quick.

"Didn't I already kill you?" He asked, filled with sudden rage. Jack smirked, glancing at his gun. The power pack was depleted. He still had the pistol given to him by The Corsair, but he had a feeling he wouldn't get the time to grab it.

"You're going to have to try harder than that," Jack smirked.

"Obviously," the Time Lord returned dryly, "That's alright, you aren't the first "unkillable" man I have murdered. Just ask Rasputin."

He leapt forward, with a heavy front kick, catching Jack off guard. Morbius' booted foot smashed hard into Jack's chest. Pain immediately ripped through him, the air forced from his lungs. It was like being hit by a truck; much harder than he had expected. He gasped for air.

Morbius' fist came next, cracking Jack across the jaw. His vision filled with spots. How was he so strong? It didn't matter; he couldn't go unconscious and he couldn't die. Sarah was counting on him. God only knew what Morbius would do to her.

He threw a straight left back. The Time Lord dodged to the right; right where Jack wanted him. He ducked right into Jack's waiting hook. He stumbled back, Jack hitting him with another left hand.

Morbius blocked this one, smashing his fist into Jack's ribs, before aiming to take off his head with another hook. Jack ducked, grabbing his arm as it sailed by. Using the momentum, he pulled Morbius forward, and kicked his feet out from under him.

The madman was too intelligent to be caught by that, grabbing Jack around the waist instead. He laid all his weight on him. Jack set his feet, his muscles straining against him. He slammed his elbow down between Morbius' shoulders.

With a burst of power, Morbius bull rushed forward, slamming Jack into the wall. Stunned for a moment, Morbius stood, cracking him across the face with two haymakers. Jack blocked the third, driving a punch of his own into his opponents already mangled nose.

He watched in horror as the scars across Morbius' face split open as he stumbled. The Time Lord shook his head a couple times, the skin already knitting, and he took advantage of Jack's shock.

He clocked the Time Agent with a thick uppercut, but missed with the next swing. Jack countered with another elbow, this one to his jaw. He followed with a heavy straight right.

Immediately, Jack knew he had over-committed, as Morbius slipped by. He was wide open as Morbius returned with a flush left, hitting him right in the teeth.

Jack crumbled, his vision blackening, and filled with spots. He glanced up at Morbius, who kneeled down. He gripped the front of Jack's shirt, hand cocked back for more blows.

He stopped before he began, his head snapping toward the door. His orange eyes squinted as he rose to his feet. His pace was hurried, and he moved towards his TARDIS. He looked back once more, before opening one of the panels and stepping inside.

Jack sat up, the room drowned in a familiar worping grind of a TARDIS dematerializing. He noted this one had a fuzzier, electrical tinge to it, unlike The Doctor's. He watched as the unsettling obelisk spun in mid air, gaining speed, then winked in and out of existence, before disappearing all together.

Then he realized through the pounding in his head and ringing in his ears, what Morbius had been looking at. The Doctor's screaming, Scottish voice shouted over everything.

"Sarah! Sarah! We need to go!" he yelled. The old Time Lord burst into the room. He was drenched in sweat, his screwdriver glowing wildly. His eyes dropped to Sarah, then turned to Jack. "I can't stop it; the reactor is going to blow. We need to get out of here, now!" He hollered.

Jack scraped himself off the ground, his head swirling. He pushed through it, grabbing the unconscious Sarah Jane around the waist. He hoisted her up over his shoulder, running behind The Doctor. They ran out into the main factory; the reactor ablaze with caustic smelling flames. Both ran for the hole made by the Paternoster Gang, their escape through the devastation. Before him, Vastra and Jenny ran, The Doctor behind them. One was missing.

Jack turned around as he was about to exit. His eyes scanned through the fire, finding his target.

"Do you think I fear you're petty fire?" Strax shouted, firing at the remaining Ravaged, "a coward's tactic at best!"

"Strax! Come on!" Jack yelled. The Sontaran looked back but a moment before returning to his task. Of course he wouldn't run. Sontarans never did.

"Doctor, here," he called. The Doctor turned about. "Take Sarah, I need to get Strax." The Doctor nodded, as Jack hoisted their friend into his waiting arms. They turned in opposite directions, Jack toward the super soldier.

"Strax! We have to go come on!" He yelled. Foul smelling smoke choked the air. Timber and metal crashed down from the ceiling as flames raced up the walls. "This place is goin..." The sudden, white-hot flash blinded him.

The explosion that followed shook the entire city with its force. All the evidence of Morbius' presence was erased in but a moment. All that remained were those who had witnessed his depravity. His reign of terror had only just begun.

* * *

With a sudden gasp, Sarah Jane's eyes sprung open. She had expected to see the terror inducing visage of Morbius, his orange eyes staring into her, filled with malice. Instead she stared up at a wood ceiling. She looked around quickly.

The evil factory was gone, replaced by the familiar, plush bed chamber of Thirteen Paternoster Row. Sitting on the edge of her bed, his cool eyes staring out the window, was The Doctor. His gaze was much further than the street outside. He looked lost in thought. He rolled his sonic screwdriver over in his hands absently.

As she shifted in the bed, his head snapped to her. A smile finally came to his face. Obviously he had been worried for her.

"Sarah, you're alright. How are you feeling?" He asked. He pointed his screwdriver at her, it warbling loudly. He glanced at it then back at her. God only knew what he was scanning for this time. Probably anything from Cruciform Enspholitis to the common cold, if she knew him.

"I'm alright..." she answered clearing her throat. Her neck was stiff and her throat sore. She was a little horse too... not surprising. The last thing she remembered was Morbius choking her. Were it not for her symptoms, she may have thought it was a nightmare.

"I was worried. You're a little bruised around the neck, just so you aren't surprised when you see it. I went to the sixteenth millennia and picked up a wonderful anti-coagulants. The bruising is mostly gone but... still there."

"Is... everyone else okay?" Sarah worried. She last remembered Jack coming to save her. "Did we stop Morbius?"

"He... got away. We're going to have to go on a scavenger hunt after all." She noted the look in his eyes. Something was wrong.

"Doctor... after I passed out, what happened?" She laid her hand on his, looking him in the eyes.

"I couldn't stop the meltdown. Jack carried you out, and went back for Strax. They were both caught in the blast. Jack is... well Jack, so he's fine. But Strax... Strax is gone." He hung his head. A pall fell over Sarah Jane too. She hadn't known the Sontaran well but it was obvious The Doctor counted him as a friend.

"Are Vastra and Jenny alright?" She imagined they must be devistated.

"As they can be. They are holding a funeral of sorts for him tomorrow."

"We should attend." The Doctor shook his head, in rejection.

"We're leaving tonight. We don't have time to waste mourning. Morbius needs to be stopped." It would perhaps sound cold to some, but Sarah understood what he meant. Morbius was more important than their feelings or their grief for Strax. More would die, including himself, if they didn't hurry. If he assembled the Epoch Lens, he would possess complete power over life and death.

"Vastra has sworn vengeance against Morbius, as has Jenny. We will not tell them we are leaving. They will not survive this," he looked down, nervously adjusting the cuffs of his hoodie, "we may not even make it through this one."

"Yes we will. We have you." She tried to comfort. She knew how hollow it was but she tried.

"I'm not sure I'm enough at this point. Morbius is..." he never finished his sentence. Sarah shook her head, scooting so she sat next to him. Self doubt; that was something she hadn't seen in him very often.

"It doesn't matter what Morbius is. You're The Doctor. You're smarter and cleverer than him. You're stronger than him. All he knows how to do is kill and destroy. You will always be better than him, because of that."

He only stared at her. She couldn't tell if he was accepting the information or not. It was possible Strax's death weighed on him, or that Morbius' words cut deeper than he let on.

He suddenly smiled with a light chuckle.

"I have a better complexion, that's for sure." He joked. She shoved him playfully. He stood up brushing himself off.

"Get some rest. I have the feeling you won't be getting much of that for the next few days." He looked back out the window, clasping his hands behind his back. "We're leaving at midnight."

"What about Jack? Is he coming with us?" She wondered. He had probably saved her life; she wanted to at least thank him before they shoved off. Not to mention the pragmatist in her wouldn't mind having a nearly unkillable Time Agent there to back them up.

"If he's back in time, I won't stop him." The Doctor shrugged.

"He did find Morbius," she interjected.

"No, he's hiding something from me. There's more to what he told me in the basement of that shop, and I intend to find out what."

"About Morbius?" she couldn't imagine him keeping anything to himself about that madman after this.

"The Great Intelligence." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We're really up a creek here, aren't we?" she sighed at the mention of their old foe again. She didn't want to tell him she too, was hiding information from him about the very same man. He would feel so betrayed. But it was for his own good, weather he believed it or not.

"Just get some rest. I need to... decompress. I'll collect you at midnight." He patted shoulder gently before walking out. She wanted to rest, but doubted she would. Morbius and his monster-men had cleanly burrowed into her mind.

* * *

It was not but a shadow in the streets of London. The workhouse burned to cinders before it. A smile crept to its face.

It exerted it's will, the shade darkening. For but a few moments, it became solid, before winking back out.

It was nearly corporal again. It's power was returning. All this chaos. People pulled from their timelines, lives destroyed before their time. All the change. It was like food to a starving man. It could feel the changes Morbius was creating rippling across the universe. The aftershocks; people never existing, never being born or never being killed, were sweet mana.

The Trickster knew he would soon rise from this state. His power would return. Morbius was an excellent disciple. The Doctor's death was coming, swiftly and sure as a river.

The once God faded once again. Time was of the essence. Morbius would need guidance to the next piece. He would gladly provide it


	7. United Heresies

_(Author's note: Here we go Outlaw Gents and Shady Ladies. The Great Intelligence's plot revealed. The moment has finially come)_

The TARDIS floated in space. At a standstill among planets, nebulas and stars, the view was magnificent. The Doctor always liked the Horse Head Cluster. It was beautiful, and he found it calming.

Here sat The Doctor, atop the blue phone box. His legs were crossed, his eyes closed, hands laying upon his knees. With the artificial atmosphere extended in a bubble around him, and the Time Machine producing gravity, it was just like sitting outside.

Except quieter. He needed quiet right now. He couldn't think in all of the chaos. Even the soothing sounds of nature were getting on his nerves. He needed complete silence. Space was the only place he could find that. No movement, neither man nor beast. Just him.

Morbius. He had never expected him to return. He had been all but destroyed on Karn, all those years ago. The Sisterhood had supposedly taken his corpse, including the all important brain and destroyed it. How had he returned then? Unless someone, or something, had changed that. He was missing something. Something obvious. He just couldn't place what it was. He knew his next course. He had to go to Karn. He had to see what happened. What went wrong?

Then came the next step; find the pieces of the Epoch Lens. That was a task easier said than done, admittedly. Finding where he had previously hidden them was not the problem. All he had to do was use the TARDIS' telepathic circuits and it would track where he had put them or where they were now. The problem was actually getting them. If he knew himself as well as he thought, he would have put them somewhere dangerous. He was trying to stop everyone, including a possibly evil future regeneration, from gaining them. It would be places so dangerous they would be nearly fatal.

But not impossible. He would have wanted to keep them retrievable in case he ever HAD to get them, like now. He didn't know what lay ahead, but it would be dangerous enough to possibly stop him. It was no place for a human...

No place for Sarah Jane.

Morbius had to be stopped. That was doubtless. The experiments he had done, what he had created were disgusting. Inhumane. Abhorrent. Very few things made The Doctor nauseous anymore, but the thought of The Ravaged; all those people torn apart, their bodies desecrated beyond belief... he suppressed a shiver of pure revulsion. No one should be allowed to do that. God forbid he gets his hands on that gun.

He unconsciously shook his head. He remembered a time before Morbius was this. Before he was a Frankenstein monster or a cult leader or a tyrant. Before Morbius had committed his first genocide or conquered his first planet.

When he was a hero. When Time Lords looked up to him. When his TARDIS was a symbol of hope. Before he decided to burn the universe because the people he loved were killed. The Doctor hoped hurt never turned into hate as it had for Morbius.

He shook his head. He was getting distracted. He could contemplate the fall of Morbius another day. Right now he had to think of Sarah Jane, and decide what to do.

He finally opened his eyes. He needed to run the simulation one more time. Just one more time, in case the other five were mistakes. He wanted to be sure. Then he would know.

He crawled over to the edge of the roof. He grabbed on and hung off the edge for a few seconds, before swinging his feet through the doorway. He landed easily in the control room. With a snap of his fingers he shut the door, walking over to the Cyberman head attached to the console. He yanked the screen over, watching the code dance across it.

"Handles," he addressed. The head's eye lit automatically, "run the simulation again."

"This will be the sixth time, may I suggest..." started the head.

"No you many not!" The Doctor silenced, "Just do it!" Handles was silent for a few moments, more code running across the screen. With a computerized ding it finished.

"The likelihood of survival given the known factors of this scenario, in descending order. Jack Harkness; ninety-seven point three five percent chance of survival. The Doctor; fifty six percent chance of survival. Sarah Jane Smith; sixteen point three eight chance of survival." The Doctor put his head down on the console for a few seconds, thinking.

"Repeating the same actions over and over while expecting a different result is the most excepted definition of insanity." The head chirped.

"I am insane Handles," he replied, finally looking up. The math was there and it was correct.

"There is no issue then," Handles confirmed, shutting down.

She was not going to survive this. It was all but confirmed. The chances were one and a million. He couldn't allow that. Not her. Not his oldest friend. He knew what he had to do. And it would break his hearts. He hung his head as he pulled the lever back. The spinning yellow lights did nothing to comfort him this time.

* * *

Jack wandered the streets of London aimlessly. It was like being awash in an endless sea of smog and people. The noise of factories and constant chatter of people; it occupied the front of his mind. It let him think.

He pulled his coat tight bracing against a strong, hoarfrost-laced wind. It was his fault. Strax was dead because of him. If he had been faster, or saw him sooner. If he had been stronger and subdued Morbius, he may have gotten to him sooner. He could have saved him.

They had both be caught in the blast. Jack was no mortal. He couldn't die, as far as he knew. Everything but him had been blown to ashes in a second. Vaporized. Strax's armor couldn't protect him from that.

Normally he wouldn't care about a Sontaran. Ninety percent of them were barbarians who only thought of conquest and violence. Strax was different. Vastra, Jenny and The Doctor had changed him. They had made him "better." Perhaps not by Sontaran standards but by the standards of the galaxy at large.

When he had awoken, The Doctor was pulling him from the wreckage. He knew immediately Strax was gone. Jenny was in tears, and although she was stoic, he saw the way Vastra's hands shook ever so slightly.

Morbius needed to pay. He needed to die. The Doctor had taught him a long time ago that hate lead only to suffering. The Daleks reinforced it through example. He was more than willing to make an exception for Morbius. What he had done... the murders of hundreds of people, the assault of Sarah, Strax's death; and if he was honest he wanted to even the score. Jack had not often lost a fight. He wouldn't lose the next one.

He continued his walk around another corner, stopping by the door of a small shop, waiting for the street before him to clear of carriages so that he could cross. He didn't immediately wonder about it, or how out of place it was. That a shop entitled Half-Moon Celtic Supplies was unlikely to exist here, or that the door was a startling shade of green.

It barely registered to him, so lost in thought, when the door creaked open behind him. It only dawned on him when a pair of slender arms wrapped around him, one around the neck the other around his waist, and yanked him backwards. He tried the struggle, but the grip was too sudden and strong. As he passed the threshold, he stopped, knowing full well the place he was being forced into. He had been here before, though the outside had been different. Such were Time Lords and their technology.

The perfectly round console room was awash in lime green light, courtesy of the bobbing, glass time rotator in the room's center. The walls were decorated with shelves holding a mishmash objects. In some places were electronic components from cyborg and robots, while in others there were weapons running the gamut of swords and guns. He noted in one area sat a multitude of glass jars. Some contained powders or oddly colored liquids, while others preserved organs and petrified insects.

A pair of red candles, sitting in a small dish on the octagon console, burned a perfumed odor. They smelled of cinnamon and honey; a strangely alluring combination Jack would not have expected. Next to it was a small, gold, statue of a bull, his nose puffing wisps of the same smoke.

The music was almost in contrast, a song he recognized from the grunge scene in the ninteen-ninties. The rhythmic guitars mixed with guttural vocals made an enchanting cacophony. Living Dead Girl, by Rob Zombie; he wondered if his abductor was playing this just for him.

The arms finally let go, and he spun about. Before him stood The Corsair, looking even better than his memory served him.

Her youthful, freckled face was framed by a curtain of flowing, flaming, red hair. Her eyes were just as he recalled, an unnatural, verdant green. Her cocky grin complimented it perfectly. It was the sort of grin that could convince anyone to do anything, no matter how much trouble they knew they would get in.

Her outfit consisted of a tight, button-down, formal shirt. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing a host of clanking metal bracelets decorating her wrists. None however, obscured the tattoo on her arm; a snake devouring its own tale in an eternal circle. The Ouroburos.

If her shirt did not accentuate her body enough, her green and red kilt did the rest. Her long, supple legs led down to a pair of heavy, steel toed boots, completing the ensemble to perfection.

He was abundantly familiar with The Corsair. Not long ago, she had saved him from Dalek captivity. Not only that, she had given him all of his information on The Great Intelligence; chief among that a prophecy of a supposed doomsday at his hands was rapidly approaching. She had brought him here to protect The Doctor, and make sure he didn'tregenerate. Everything hinged on that, according to her.

Now she stood before him. This couldn't be good.

"You know, you don't need to abduct me to get my attention. Most people just call me," he teased, sauntering toward her.

"And what would the fun be in that?" She snorted, "You're lucky I haven't tied you up, yet."

"Careful sister, I might like that," he winked. He had missed flirting with her.

"Not the way I do it you won't," she said dryly. She turned around, and began tapping her fingers across the TARDIS' console. She cranked a few knobs, before stroking a few keys on the keyboard. She slapped the nearby red button, and the machine jerked, the grinding whine sending them into motion through the Time Vortex.

"Where are we going?" It was going to be a little difficult to protect The Doctor if he was with her.

"Space... somewhere. Not really sure," she shrugged, "I just don't want someone to wander in here thinking it's actually a pagan shop."

"Here I thought with all the candles and music maybe you'd finally fallen to my considerable charms," he grinned. He was only truly half-joking.

"Is that what you call that shtick, huh?" she shook her head with a wry grin. "Afraid not. I'm a grunge girl, and I happen to like Clixian Mood Candles. You know, they say they smell different to every person. It depends on what they find comforting or what appeals to them."

"Cinnamon and honey... with just a trace of lilies," He trailed.

"Baking bread and freshly cut grass, mixed with pine." She said absently. Finally turning to face him again her expression had turned more earnest now. "I read about the factory... who survived this time." This time? Had she known this was coming?

"The only one who died was Strax. Everyone else made it." She nodded her head, with a slight smile.

"Good... that's a relief, The Doctor didn't regenerate?" He shook his head.

"No, he's fine. But I would hardly consider what happened in there good. You have no idea what Morbius..."

She held up her hand. "I know exactly what Morbius has done. He's done it over and over. Trust me, this time it was good." She said firmly.

"Wait, you knew about Morbius? That he was going to show up?" Unbelievable. He would have thought that this was the kind of information she would have let him in on.

"Well, technically the future is always..."

"Don't pull that 'future is in constant motion' crap with me!" Jack was not in the mood for semantics, "did you know or not?"

"Fine!" She fumed, crossing her arms, "yes, I knew. But on the off chance it didn't happen I didn't tell you."

"Then what about any of this is fine? We've got a time traveling maniac on the loose, that's assembling a super weapon, converting people into mindless zombies, and is a huge fan of galaxy wide murder sprees. Not. Fine." He finished. With all of this death, he would assume a Time Lord of all things would see a problem here.

"Considering I've seen versions of that factory where no one makes it out alive, including The Doctor, I'm going to call this one a win!" She replied caustically, her temper suddenly reaching its boiling point.

"I'm sorry, I..." he suddenly felt terrible. Sometimes he forgot that she had bounced from universe to universe trying to save them and failing.

She rubbed her temples with her index fingers and sighed.

"I know... you didn't know," she snapped her fingers, the background music shutting off. "I'm sorry I kept you in the dark about Morbius but it was necessary. We're already on tenuous ground here. This is turning out better than it has in some instances, if it makes you feel better."

"Not really," he raised his brows sarcastically, drawing a smile from the Time Lady.

"Such a fatalist. Man after my own hearts."

"So did I accomplish my mission then? Was that factory where The Doctor was going to die?" If it was he was expecting that kiss he was promised on Kallamorvis.

"Oh Honey, this is far from over. He's only died there once. Frankly, this is usually where the entire Paternoster Gang is wiped off the map." A cold feeling rose in his gut.

"So Strax..." he started.

"Strax, and just Strax is an improvement," she nodded. "I hate looking at it this way just as much as you do but we have to." He sighed.

The pressure was weighing on him more than he wanted to admit. He may be a near-immortal, and had assisted The Doctor in saving the entire universe more than once but this was different. From what she was telling him, if he failed to protect The Doctor, it was over. Roll out the stuttering cartoon pig, because that's all folks. Protect the man who throws himself headlong into as much danger as humanly possible, makes a habit of antagonizing the most dangerous beings in existence, and is a magnet for creation ending drama.

That was the problem though. He could always fall back on said man. The Doctor always had a handle on things, even when he didn't. He could always rely on him. This time, it was just him. Himself and the woman in front of him. The woman who flitted in and out at seemingly random.

What part was she playing here? What was she doing, at what was perhaps the most important time that everything could hinge on. Where the bloody hell was she in this? He intended to find out.

"You know, you seem more like a hands on kind of gal... why aren't you helping me protect him? I don't understand if this is so important why aren't two of us better than one."

He could tell he caught her off guard for a second, as her green orbs went blank for a moment. Then she cocked her jaw, her brow furrowed. Evidently that was the wrong question.

"What do you think I'm doing exactly? Do you think I'm just going off to concerts and interstellar raves? Or maybe just cruising around abducting imprisoned idiots for kicks and giggles so they can do the dirty work for me? Really," raising her voice and striding toward him, "tell me what you think I'm doing because I'm very curious!"

"I have no idea what you're doing!" He returned fire, "Because you won't tell me anything!"

They just stood there, staring at each other for a few moments, so close they nearly touched. He couldn't tell what was going on behind those green eyes or hers, but he could practically see the gears in her head moving.

"You need to give me something..." he almost begged, "because if today was this close a call, I don't want to imagine tomorrow."

Her voice softened finally, anger draining from it. "I... follow me, I'll show you."

Much to his surprise, she took him by the hand. He was surprised at how soft her skin was but he could feel the trigger callus on her pointer finger. She led him through the door on the opposite side of the console room.

The metal halls reminded him of The Doctor's TARDIS, although the metal was a greener shade. A long strand of lime lights ran down each wall, pulsing ever so slightly, like a heartbeat.

They passed a doorway on his right, this one leading to some kind of workshop. It too was filled with scrap; obviously his friend was even more of a tinkerer than he had thought. He craned his head as they passed another on the left, his keen eyes catching sight of a rack of weapons.

Most of them were guns, some of which he recognized. Some were laser rifles and pistols made by the Villengard Company, while others were plasma blasters manufactured by Sarkovski Brothers United. Some he didn't recognize the maker of, but he knew only one race could create lasers of such complexity. Time Lords.

He rooted his feet as he looked more, seeing even older weapons; from Desert Eagles and Tommy Guns to crossbows and even a massive broad sword. He just wanted to go and look, just for a few minutes. It was like being in a candy store to him.

"Not for you," she scolded, tugging him along roughly, "come on."

"Can't I just..."

"No," was her flat reply, before dragging him forward.

They finally reached the last door on the right, and he followed her through. The room was very simple, the floor dominated by an octagon shaped hologram projector. A pair of computers were connected to it, a rounded symbol language flashing across one. On the other was a strange algorithm of code, in a variety of symbols and numbers.

"What is this?" He asked. She let go of his hand, and walked over to the console. A few taps on the screen elicited a loud ping.

A red light clicked on, as the hologram formed from the octagon. It created a massive globe of the same computer code that had been running across the screen. It swirled and shifted around and through itself, with no pattern so far as he could see. He could see some numbers in it, as well as some letters from English. Other letters from galactic languages, such as Silurian, Saurian, Draconian, Mondasian and a good portion of Time Lord were also present.

What disturbed him the most though, was the staggering amount of Thal and Kalid. He had only seen those languages once or twice, as they had long ago been wiped from the universe. The Kalids became the first Daleks, and either exterminated or converted the Thals. It was their first act as a species, genocide. The first of many was more like it.

Why were these languages even present? Or Mondasian for that matter, the tongue of the first Cybermen? All three languages of species that had long abandoned their old selves, instead choosing savagery.

"Do you remember when we were aboard the Dalek capital ship? Davros and the Daleks kept screaming about Heretics?" She passed her hand through the hologram, watching it twirl between her fingers. "This is the Heretic's Code."

"Wait... it's you?" He was aghast. He had been endlessly tortured for information about that. Davros intended to kill and resurrect him infinitely, before she arrived to save him. She could have mentioned that it was her plot he was dying for. Even a passing reference would do.

"No! Of course not," she scoffed, "Don't you think if I could turn Dalek on Dalek I would have annihilated them by now?" He suddenly felt foolish. He should have known better.

"Then who?"

"This is the endgame of The Great Intelligence. This is his plan. This is what will destroy the universe." Her eyes were hard and serious. He could see, for a moment, through the young vale. He could see the ancient being beneath the skin.

"What does it do, exactly?" he stayed calm, even though it sent a chill tingling up his spine.

"It does exactly what Davros said, it changes the Daleks. Though not exactly as he thinks. As always, he believes it is all about him."

"Of course he does, he's a megalomaniacal sociopath," Jack shook his head. He was always short sighted. Blind.

"He believes it turns them on one and other, but that is wrong," she paced back to the screen, ticking a few buttons. The globe expanded, encompassing the whole room. The red lights danced along the walls and their skin, fluttering through the air like insects.

"What it does is makes them pliable to The Great Intelligence and his ilk. Turns them to his side if you will," he could hear this revulsion in her tone.

"So they view him how they would view Davros or the Dalek Emperor?" She nodded. That would completely explain why Davros had said they had turned on him. They saw a new master in The Great Intelligence. The prophecy he had heard on the Dalek ship came to mind, a prophecy by the mad Dalek, Caan. "They still feel the sweet pull of genocide; they just feel it for another."

"And they won't kill his allies, either." She added.

"So, the Spoonheads."

"Not just the Spoonheads. He has another ally. One that is legion. One capable of destroying the universe in its own right." She ticked her hand across the screen. A new image popped up out of the projector. The very sight of the hologram made his mouth go dry. He sucked in an involuntary breath, and blinked his eyes. He had hoped she had landed on the image by accident, but she just crossed her arms and cocked her head at him.

The figure was made of a stark, silver armor. Imposing and obviously battle ready, its wrist gun was pointed forward. Its robotic face was emotionless, though its eyes glowed blue. The handles on the top and sides of its head was a dead giveaway for what this thing was to any who had seen them before. Jacks loathing for them ran deep.

"The Cybermen," he breathed. A race of cyborgs. It was only a metal shell, powered by a human brain. All emotions were removed. No love, nor pride, nor hate, nor fear. No mercy. Only a want to upgrade the entire cosmos. What could not be made exactly like them was to be eradicated.

"This isn't possible..." he shook his head. The Battle of Canary Warf had shown him that. Cyberman and Daleks, even when it benefitted them most, saw each other as inferior. They would never work together. Never.

"With the Heretic's Code it is. It has corrupted the Dalek programming so far under the Great Intelligence's Control that they will do whatever he pleases. Even side with the Cybermen, a race they consider 'sub-Dalek," she looked down at the floor, then back at the projection. "This is the army that will annihilate all of time and space. If we don't stop it."

The room was so silent he could almost hear a pin drop. It was worse than he could ever imagine. Worse than his wildest dreams. It was even worse than the Crucible, if that was possible. Once again, Caan's words wormed their way into his head. He said them aloud.

"The uniter of heresies has come..." he murmured. No wonder The Corsair had looked so disturbed that day. "We need to tell The Doctor."

"No. We can't," she shook her head.

"What do you expect me to do? Keep it a secret? That I know his two worst enemies are now best friends?" He couldn't do that. He started walking toward her. He wasn't angry; though he believed this was foolish.

"That is exactly why you need to do. I have seen futures where I have told him now. They all end the same," she grabbed his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. She was so earnest...

"How... how do they end?" he dared.

"He stops hunting Morbius. He goes for the Great Intelligence instead. Morbius assembles The Epoch Lens. The Great Intelligence kills him and takes it. He erases The Doctor and anyone who gets in his way. He becomes even more God-like than in any of the others. It ends the universe even faster."

"But maybe with me..." he started. She placed a single finger to his lips.

"We need to get him through this Morbius business first. Without the Epoch Lens, The Great Intelligence is not only going to be slowed by The Doctor but he needs him. Erasing him solves all the problems. Otherwise, his plan still needs him alive in some degree, or at least a corpse." She explained calmly.

"What could he possibly need him for? Or his body?" Jack asked.

"That part of his plan has not transpired yet, and it may not. I dare not tell you. Just trust me... you need to keep this a secret. He will find out eventually. He just can't right now. And you need to keep him safe," she nodded, "that has not changed." Realization hit him like a truck, suddenly and violently.

"Oh my God. You're decoding it. If you take away the code..."

"The Daleks return to their original programming and blow the Cyberman and Spoonheads to kingdom come," she smiled, "I knew I chose you for a reason."

"And you can't do it if you spend all of your time protecting The Doctor." He finished.

"And failing to do so," she finally let go of him, but still stayed close, "the code is incomplete right now. It is different in every universe, so I always start from square one, but it's usually similar enough to give me a jump start. So with the time given by you protecting him, I can raid his data bases and outposts. I might be able to construct it enough to restore the Daleks to normal and avoid everything."

"You're brilliant." He whispered. Such intelligence. It was so sexy to him.

"No, I'm desperate. There is one detour I'm going to need to make very soon, so you will see me again in the near future. After that, the protection of The Doctor is on you. And the Heretic's Code is on me."

"Here, let me see the code again," his hand brushed the screen. He just wanted to see it, in case he had any ideas to help her.

"No, wait," she exclaimed.

Abruptly, the hologram became a mass of red circles. Each was dotted with millions of orange dots. He counted eleven red balls. Each had a numeric tag floating beside them.

"What is this?" he trailed. Her demeanor now became dark.

"Nine-hundred and eighty six years of time. Five spent regenerations. Trillions of deaths," she said darkly. Even in the dark, he could see her eyes filling with tears. He knew what it was. It was a map of all the universes she had traveled to. All the universes she had lost.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." he was sorry. Sorry for all she had seen.

"It's alright," she wiped her eye, raising her hand to the nearest circle, designated with the number zero zero three one, "all that is left may be embers, but they still light my way forward." She smiled for only a moment, the sad kind of smile of one remembering someone or something that was gone. She suddenly turned to him. "Come on, you have alot of work to do."


	8. Something Worth Dying For

_(Author's note: Well, I'm finially back. I have been absent for awhile due to a pretty serious concussion in the end of May. Suffice to say my road of late has been rough but I'm alive and still kicking. Let me know if I've still got it, huh? Enjoy!)_

Sarah Jane wrapped her arms tightly around herself, protecting her core from the frigid air. The moderately chilly day had devolved into a brutally cold night. Beyond that, the snow had begun to fall, and was beginning to pile up in the deserted streets, creating majestic drifts on corners and around stoops. She could barely see The Doctor up ahead, trudging through the cold and dark night.

It was midnight when they left 13 Paternoster Row. They made sure Jenny and Vastra were asleep when they snuck out. Sarah Jane felt bad about doing so, but she agreed with The Doctor. They would want to avenge Strax, and take the fight to Morbius. They would throw themselves needlessly and recklessly into danger. With someone as dangerous as Morbius, that was suicide.

So, they had to leave them behind. No goodbye, no funeral for Strax. They had to find the remaining pieces of the Epoch Lens. There was no time for grief. Not with a monster on the loose.

She rubbed her neck uncomfortably. It still felt stiff after Morbius' assault. She had looked in the mirror before they left, and The Doctor had indeed been correct. Ghostly bruises of Morbius' fingers still remained on her flesh. They were barely noticeable but still there, a constant reminder of his assault. As if her still seeing his terrible eyes in her head were not enough.

She saw The Doctor glance back to her, making sure she was keeping up. His eyes were cold, his face expressionless. He was acting strange, ever since the workhouse. He had scarcely said a word since they left. She wondered if he was just lost in thought, or if there was something else on his mind.

She snickered sardonically. It wasn't like they had anything to worry about. Why should he be upset? She mentally scolded herself. Just his own fate, as well as perhaps the fate of all the universe was on his shoulders. That was all. She shook her head.

As they made the final turn, she spotted The TARDIS sitting beneath a streetlamp ahead. The Doctor had mercifully moved it closer. That was good, she started to shiver now.

Leaning against the glowing, blue box, was Jack Harkness. His overcoat was covered in a thin sheen of snow, and he was hunched over against the cold. He broke out into a wide grin as they approached.

"You didn't think you were going to sneak off without me, did you?" winked the Time Agent, his arms wide open.

"How did you find the TARDIS?" The Doctor asked, giving him a side long glace.

He pointed at his manipulator, "Uhh, Time Traveler."

"No imagination," he shook his head, "but no, I wasn't planning to leave you behind. You're too deep in this now." The Doctor held out his hand, and sharply snapped his fingers. With a creak, the TARDIS' door opened. He gestured, and Jack walked through, the pair following.

The moody console room was lit with the amber time rotator as always, with dark blue tinges. Sarah noted one of the panels of the console was glowing. She always had glossed over it; consisting of a globular substance intersected by buttons and switches. It was usually an opaque white but was now glowing bright purple. She didn't properly care what it was right now. It was just nice to be warm again.

"Welcome back Doctor," Handles gurgled, still wired into the console.

"Shut down Handles," the Scotsman ordered, shutting the TARDIS doors with another snap of his fingers. He had such an edge right now. Was something going on?

"Alright where to first boss man?" Jack had almost instantly started running his hands across the console. She imagined this was the first time he had been here since the Crucible. It was probably just as surreal for him to be back in any TARDIS as it had been for her.

"Jack Harkness trying not to dictate our course. This must really be an apocalyptic event." The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Hey, it's your Millennium Falcon, you and Chewy drive it however you want," Jack shrugged to a snort from Sarah. "As long as I get another crack at breaking Morbius' face, I'm a happy camper."

"I... I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," mumbled the Time Lord. "Actually, I need you to check on the eastern particle thrusters before we take off. Sarah and I are going to calibrate the Telepathic Circuits." There was something off about his tone. She leaned against the rails, spying the two.

"Why would I..." started Jack. The Doctor tilted his head, leveling him a glare that could rightly be weaponized. An understanding seemed to pass over Jack's eyes. His expression changed oddly from annoyed to compliant. Now they were both acting strange. Great.

"Right... I'll get right on that." He nodded. He shot The Doctor one last, lingering, look before exiting through the east door. He turned about, and began ticking away at switches and levers. There was a dull clunk, followed by the familiar worping wherr of the time machine taking off. It still gave her goose bumps, even all these years later.

She walked up to the console, standing near him. "So, where are we going first?" They had to start somewhere. She had no idea what dangers or obstacles to expect but she was ready to help no matter what.

He didn't answer right away, spinning another switch. His gaze was distracted and distant, before he finally looked at her.

"What?" he asked after a pause.

"Where are we going?" She repeated. She lay a hand on his shoulder for a moment. "Doctor, are you alright?" He shrugged her away, rubbing his face with his aged hand.

"Yes... yes, quite." Even he didn't sound convinced.

"Doctor, you know, if something is wrong, you can always..." with a dull clunk the ship landed.

"Here we are," was all The Doctor sighed, locking in the final lever.

"Where is here?" It could be anywhere at this point.

"See for yourself." His voice was flat and emotionless. She screwed up her face as she walked toward the door. Why was he being so strange? She opened the door.

An all too familiar sight greeted her. The sunny, homey street was idealic. A soft breeze blew through the nearby trees, and birds chirped cheerfully in the cool fall air. She immediately recognized the comfortable, two-story home ahead. She had lived in it her entire life, and right now, it made her heart sink.

Thirteen Bannerman Road. Her home. He had brought her home. This had to be a joke. One of his gags gone wrong. She spun around, her breath nearly stolen by shock.

"Doctor... this isn't funny." She could feel tears welling in her eyes.

"I should hope not Sarah. It isn't a joke." He nodded soberly, clasping both hands behind his back. His mouth was a flat, serious line.

"What... what do you think you're doing?" Was he really trying to do this again? Trying to leave her? Like he did all those years ago? She couldn't believe it.

"This is too dangerous for you Sarah Jane. Morbius is not an Ice Warrior or a Weeping Angel. Last time he was alive, with a functional body, he killed millions of people. I can't let that happen." He walked forward. He had a saddened look in his eyes. She could tell this wasn't what he wanted. "There is no choice here. It's time for you to go."

For a moment, she was achingly bereaved. How could he do this? He had forced her out of the TARDIS against her will once before, when they first travelled together. He had left her behind in Aberdeen, Scotland. Barely a goodbye, and unceremonious.

She had held it against him for a long time. She always had cared for him, and always helped him when he came to her, no matter what. In the same instance, she had been young, and perhaps foolish when they travelled then. She had thought it would last forever. Sarah Jane and The Doctor; traveling the universe there was nothing left to see.

She vowed she would never do it again. She would never climb back in that TARDIS. Not after missing him every day. Not after being abandoned like a dog no one wanted. Not after he made it clear she wasn't wanted.

Until she ran into him again recently. It was something hard to leave behind. She was older and wiser. They had agreed they would end things together, when they were both finished this time, not one sided as before.

Her sadness did not last long, morphing almost immediately to rage. How could he do this again? After all they had been through? After all they had faced together? After he had promised? Did she mean so little to him really?

She began to shake with anger, tears blinding her vision. No. This was not happening. Not again. He didn't get to do this a second time.

"No," Was her reply, "I... I don't care how dangerous it is. We had an agreement." She stuttered, holding in the tears.

"Before Morbius came back. This isn't the same situation anymore." He was too calm, and it was making her angrier. For a man with two hearts it seemed like he didn't have any at all.

"I don't care about the situation either," she clenched her jaw tight, trying to hold her emotions at bay, "you need help. And I'm going to be here for you."

"Sarah..." The Doctor began, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Don't make this harder than it already is."

"I'm going to make this as hard as I damn well please!" She suddenly shouted, anger boiling over, "you don't get to do this to me again. Not ever and especially not now!"

"You..."

"I what?!" She interjected, stalking forward, "what are you going to try to manipulate me with? My life? My children? My planet? I know all of your dirty tricks!"

He just stood still, his mouth gapped, eyes staring through her. It was almost like he couldn't believe how badly this had gone. She wiped the tears away with the palms of her hands. She hadn't even gotten started yet.

"What am I to you? What are we to you? Us humans?" She questioned bitterly. He gave her a sideways look, narrowing his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, are we just playthings to you? Just something to keep you occupied until you don't want us anymore?" Tears were now freely rolling down her face. "What do you think we do when you do this? When you force us back into our lives?"

"Sarah, I..."

"Because we sure as hell don't go back to normal if that's what you think!" She pointed at him. "You're fooling yourself if you think Clara just settled into her life with her boyfriend and never thought of running across the stars again! Or that Amy and Rory just lived happily ever after in a time they never belonged in! Or that Rose's life was ever the same! And I certainly didn't go back, you can believe that!" She couldn't even count the anomalous events she had borne witness to since traveling with him. Normal was a joke at this point.  
She slatted away more tears. He turned away from her, covering his mouth. He wasn't getting away like that. He started this.

"So, tell me! Where the hell do you get off doing this? The only one that got to go back to normal was Donna, because you erased her memory. If you think you're just going to dump me off your wrong!" She smacked her hand on the console, "I'm not your companion or your assistant. You're going to have to drag me kicking and screaming out of this TARDIS!"

He whirled around suddenly. His eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue she had seen. His voice was filled with anger like hers, as he finally shouted back.

"What are you to me?! Do you really want to know? Fine, I'll tell you! You aren't my assistant, or my companion, or even my partner!" He pointed with both hands, "you are my best friend, and someone I care for with all of my hearts! And I'm not about to let you die because of me!"

"That's not up to you!" She yelled back, trying to regain her self-control.

"I will not have you die for a madman!" His brogue was thick with anger and a hint of desperation. Desperation for what though?

"Why? I've been nearly doing that my whole life!" She knew that was a dig but she didn't care. She walked forward, standing just inches from him, looking him in the eyes.

"This is my life, and I'll die for whatever I please, if I please. You may be two thousand years old but you don't get to tell me what to do with what time I have left!" She was shaking now. They were both silent for a few moments, his eyes almost vacant in the way they stared at her. She couldn't tell what was going on in his head but wished she could.

"I can't lose you Sarah Jane. Not you," he replied quietly.

"And this whole universe can't lose you! And if you think I'm going to leave you now, when you need me the most, then you are out of your mind!" She dried what was left of her tears, a few still welling up. She turned around taking a few steps away. She needed to calm down. They both took another minute, just to regain their composer. Screaming at each other wasn't solving anything. All they were doing was hurting and exhausting one another.

"Sarah... this is more dangerous than anything we have ever done..." The Doctor finally broke the silence, "the chances of me surviving are low. Let alone you."

"The chances of us making it are always slim, what's your point?" her tone was decidedly dejected now. Fighting with him took it out of her, every time.

"A million Morbius' wouldn't be worth one of you."

"No, they wouldn't be" she shook her head. She finally turned around again, taking a single step forward. "But this fight, if it saves you, might be." She took a deep breath.

"I know you don't want me to leave. If you really wanted to leave me behind, you would take the TARDIS off around me and strand me here. But your scared." he turned around for a second, his hand reaching to his forehead.

"Of course, I'm scared," his admission sounded like defeat in his voice. "Look at what he has already done."

"Well, I'm scared too," she walked up behind him, laying one hand on his shoulder, "so, maybe we should face that fear together. We have always been stronger together than apart. You should know that better than anyone by now."

"And... how am I supposed to live with myself if you die?" he asked.

"How will I if I sit by and do nothing while he does the same to you?" She countered.

"Am I still a good man if I allow you to come, knowing the possible consequences?" He turned around, his ancient eyes boring into her. It seemed his question was rhetorical, but she answered anyway.

"The best to ever live, even if you're a bloody idiot," and she meant that, truly. Even if what he had almost just done was awful, she understood it. It didn't come from a place of malice. That didn't make her feel better but it was the truth.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care. That isn't my problem. Let's stop wasting time and get going." She nearly ordered. Every second they wasted was another second closer to Morbius finally getting that gun.  
The Doctor took one, last, lingering look at the open door. She could imagine what was going through his head right now and none of it was good. He snapped his fingers, and the door creaked shut.

He finally walked to the console fiddling with buttons and leavers. The grinding worp began, the time rotator bobbing rapidly. She half expected him to take off around her but he didn't. If he did that, Morbius wouldn't be who he needed to be afraid of.

"Where are we going? Have you used the Telepathic Circuits yet?" She finally questioned. They needed to get on with this. She just wanted to leave her embarrassment and anger behind on Bannerman Road.

"No, I haven't. We need to go to Karn. Something went wrong. I know how the timeline was supposed to go. The Sisterhood destroyed Morbius' body. Something must have gone wrong. I need to find out what." He was still distracted, probably by their fight. Or perhaps everything. Regardless, he couldn't let it affect him. He needed to be on point.

"Alright, sounds like a plan," nodded his companion.

"I'm not sorry for trying to leave you behind. I was only doing what I thought was right," he abruptly justified. She understood. It still made her angry, but she understood.

"And I'm not for fighting you," she replied. He looked back to her with a wry smile, one she struggled not to return.

"You're both to hard headed, not easy going like me," Jack abruptly shouted from the doorway. She saw him standing here his arms crossed, wearing a smirk on his face. She wondered how long he had been there silently.

"We can leave you instead," prodded The Doctor, "Jurassic Earth is only a few millennia away."

"No thanks. Been there, done that," snorted Jack, "but if Mom and Dad are finished fighting, I would like to get on with the trip." As he finished, the TARDIS clunked, landing. Both Sarah Jane and The Doctor gave him an evil look, and he returned with a smirk.

The trio walked toward the door, The Doctor leading the way. He stopped just before the door opened, turning.

"I have a very shaky alliance with The Sisterhood of Karn. Let me do the talking," the Scottish Time Lord explained "If they even think for a moment we are enemies or seeking to harm them..."

"I remember, bonfire time," Sarah grimaced. They had nearly burned The Doctor alive when she last saw them. She hoped they were less volatile this time.

The Doctor opened the door, and they stepped out into the open cavern. It was almost surreal for Sarah Jane how it looked exactly the same as when she had last seen it. The shining cave was ancient and beautiful. The rocks glimmered with strange colored ores, casting lights of red and green in all directions. It was lit by a variety of wall mounted torches, though the main light was a great flame. It was set in a hole in the rocks, twisting pleasingly in pigments of orange and crimson. Sarah remembered the Doctor telling her that it was the main source of the Sisterhood's power, and their holiest of sacraments.

A large circle was carved into the cavern floor, consisting of runic Gallifreyan writing. It was here the Sisterhood would conduct ceremonies and religious rites. This was all before an ornate throne carved of rock adorned with visages of flames. All things were as they had been before, though Sarah had only briefly been here before they left Karn for good.

All except for the bodies strewn around the room. Sarah Jane's heart sunk into her stomach upon seeing them. Their garb consisted of simple crimson robes, hemmed with gold. Though most appeared plain, a select few decorated their faces with orange and red make up, in the motif of fire around the eyes. There number were only eight, but she imagined the Sisterhood was not much larger than that.

The fight was obviously violent, and quick. Many were marred by scorch marks and cauterized holes, made by some kind of futuristic weapon. None of them had weapons of their own as far as she could see. It hadn't been a fight at all. It was an execution.

"He beat us here..." The Doctor said solemnly. He walked to the first woman nearby, kneeling to touch the side of her neck. He shook his head in response, shutting her eyes with his fingers.  
"Are you sure it was him?" Jack asked. His Villengard Special was already drawn, and he was alert.

"The Sisterhood of Karn killed Morbius the last time with my help. He hates them almost as much as he hates me." The Doctor stood, looking around. He raised his screwdriver, and it emitted a low whine.

"It doesn't look like he used them for parts at least," Sarah murmured. It didn't lesson their death, but no one deserved to be desecrated as so many had before them. It almost surprised her.

"No this was simply about vengeance. Nothing more," The Doctor's face changed suddenly, "a heartbeat! I'm picking up a heartbeat!"

He jogged across the room, to a body nearest to the large throne. Sarah followed, but Jack stayed back. The woman was the oldest among them, with wrinkles all around her face and eyes. She could tell they were made by stress, as her face, even at rest like it was, looked stern. Sarah thought she remembered this woman though she was unsure. It had been so long ago.  
She could just barely see her chest rising and falling. Her breath was shallow, her eyes shut. The Doctor knelt beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder. She had been hit with three shots. One scorched into her left leg, leaving a cauterized hole behind, while two had hit her upper chest. It was a miracle that she was alive at all.

A single eye opened, looking up at the Time Lord. A low wheeze escaped her.

"Shhhhhh," The Doctor comforted, "rest now Maren. Save your strength." Sarah knew the name. She was the Sisterhood's Leader.

"Who..." she struggled, the words barely escaping.  
"It's me. The Doctor," he whispered. A pained smile came to her aged face.

"Face... changed... again," a cough followed from the dying woman.

"Who did this to you? Did anyone survive?" His voice was so gentle, something Sarah scarcely saw from the old Scotsman.  
"Mo..." another cough interrupted her, "Morbius... returned. The... youngest...escaped." her voice was labored as a tear rolled down her cheek. She did not have long from what Sarah could tell.

"I will stop him. I promise you," there was intensity in his voice.  
"You... you... must... st..." a final, shallow breath came from her lips, and she lay still. Her eye lost focus as the other lulled open. Her chest stayed still.

The Doctor hung his head, before shutting her eyes as well. She stood slowly, keeping his eyes on her, turning the screwdriver over in his hand.

"Doctor... are you..." Sarah didn't finish. She knew he wasn't.

"Lets... let's just go. We need to stop him. Before he murders anyone else." She saw Jack nod and pull the TARDIS door open. The Doctor walked toward him, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the world on them.


	9. Weapons of Past Destruction

_(Author's note: Alright, long note here. First, story stuff. This chapter will introduce two new groups to the mix. The first is one of my own design, heavily inspired by the SPC website. The second is from the 11th Doctor comics. I have loved this group ever since they appeared, and wish they would showcase them more often._

 _Second, I would like to take a moment of remembrance. Last week I lost one of the people who raised me, my grandmother. This woman was an example of strength, courage, and love. In her long life, she overcame the Great Depression, Cancer, and the loss of her husband very early. This woman raised two children by herself, always providing for them what they needed, putting herself last in every turn. When her youngest daughter had a son, she took to raising him as a third parent. She taught him some of the more important lessons in right and wrong, as her very gaze was so capable of shaming she needed not speak and her praise was hard won but glowing. She encouraged him to continue doing what he loved, writing, even when he wanted to quit. I would not be who I am now were it not for her. In her later years, she bravely battled dementia until she finially passed in her sleep. I will always love and remember her as one of the people who made me. I will miss her forever. Erma, rest in peace. This one is for you.)_

The Doctor looked down at the TARDIS' console, his blue eyes practically boring a hole into it. The Telepathic Circuits were before him and engaged. The normally white jelly was now glowing a light purple, tinted orange by the ever-moving time rotator. These circuits would show him where to go. Where to find the next piece of the Epoch Lens. Where he had hidden it, or where it was now. He could only hope that they would beat Morbius to it.

Yet, he couldn't shake the melancholic feeling that it would all go wrong. Who was he kidding? It was already going wrong. The death of Strax, coupled with the murder of nearly the entire Sisterhood of Karn. Maren had expressed that some had survived, only the youngest. That was encouraging; it preserved some of the timelines they were involved in. It didn't change anything.

He finally looked up at Sarah Jane for a moment. He could see the heavy heart behind those brown eyes. Eyes that just looked pained at what he had just tried to do. A mouth that tried to smile in comfort through a frown. Along with a neck bruised with Morbius' fingerprints.

They were there to mock him. They showed him the danger she was in, as if he needed proof. They threw it in his face. She may have guarded Earth more than a few times, but this was a step too far.

He couldn't believe how badly that had gone. He had hoped she would see reason, or at least understand. He hoped that she would actually do what he told her to, just this one time. He should have known better. That was not Sarah Jane.

He could feel the hurt he had caused her, and it tore him apart. He knew it was for the best but she fought. And he let her. Shame over-ruled everything else. Shame at hurting his best friend in the universe. Shame at trying to leave her after he promised he would do it differently. Shame at letting her fight him, rather than just leave her behind. Shame at letting her win because he was selfish and didn't want to be alone. Shame because he knew she was right and he needed her help. Shame that he was killing her and he knew it. So much shame he felt he would regenerate from it.

"So... how does this work?" Sarah finally asked him. He realized, awkwardly, he had been staring at her this whole time.

"The pilot needs to put their hands in the circuits, and concentrate on what they are trying to find. It only works if the person feels strongly for who or what they are looking for. If it is an object, it helps to have possessed it at one point. That's why I must do this, and not either of you." As he finished, the old Time Lord rolled up the sleeves of his jumper.

"Let's get to it then," Jack nodded. His anxiety was evident below the surface of his calm demeanor. His twitchy fingers and antsy pacing said it all. It was not without reason. He should be nervous.

"Okay..." The Doctor whispered. Everyone quieted down, as he slipped his hands into the Telepathic Circuits. He attempted to not pay attention to the squishy feel. It was like putting his fingers into wet, mashed potatoes. He closed his eyes, and concentrated.

With a deep breath, he first thought of The Clockmaker. He was the mastermind of the weapon, and its origin. The noise of the TARDIS faded from his mind as he felt the pull on his mind. Then he thought of the gun itself. The way it looked.

In his subconscious, he knew how it looked, a picture he erased long ago. A long, red and black rifle. The first barrel exuded a purple steam from both the muzzle and the vents that ran along it. The second, beneath the first, was much longer, ending in a spear-like tip. The tip glowed with the same purple energy, swirling and shifting like an atom upon the apex.

Both barrels led to the body. It was a bulky rectangle with a hollow center. This center pulsed with pure energy, generating the gun's power, pulling it from time and space itself. The trigger grip below and the stock behind appeared almost crude compared to the rest.

Sitting atop it was a small gemstone incased in a thin tube. Some would perhaps see it as a scope, but it was what gave the weapon its name. The Lens upon it was rumored to have the ability to foresee the future. One would aim it, and it would show the universe as it would be if the victim never existed in the first place. The Doctor could not remember the legitimacy of that claim.

He focused on the image appearing in his mind, and felt the TARDIS beginning to pull on his mind. He focused on it more. He saw it beginning to shift in his mind the top barrel lighting up in pure violet. A cascade of light spilled from it, around the spear tip. It focused it into a beautiful beam of light; pure, and terrible at once.

The TARDIS pulled his mind more, and he focused harder. He couldn't think of Morbius, or Sarah, or Jack. Not of the Ravaged or Davros. His mind wanted to wander against the strain. He forced himself to only think of the Epoch Lens.  
He watched as it splintered into four pieces; two barrels, the body and the lens. The TARDIS pulled more. Subconsciously, he felt his body shake, and his teeth grit. His fingertips burned, and his head started to pound. He wasn't concentrating hard enough. Something was interfering.

"You know you should have sent her away..." a voice said in his head. It was not angry, more kind, with an English accent, "I did it when I knew I was to die." He knew who this was. His most recently past self. The one with the bow ties. What was he doing here?

He knew, deep down. That was the problem with a Time Lord using Telepathic Circuits, especially one as old as he. All of their past selves were still in there, somewhere. The Telepathic Circuits always found them.

"I need her help, and she'd find a way back, just like yours did," he argued. Clara had been sent away on Trenzalor but came back just the same. He didn't even know why he was arguing. It was just a phantom, an echo of the past. He couldn't say if he was speaking out loud, but he tried to concentrate. The gun became fuzzier in his head, beginning to re-form.

"We vowed to never be cruel or cowardly. You're being both," another voice said sharply. He knew this one too; the young adventurer who had traveled with Martha and Donna.

"Said the man who stole his companion's memories," spat a different voice, this one more nasal but a touch of Scottish to his tone. Face number seven... it had been a long time. "No matter how dangerous, one should be allowed to decide for themselves. She has."

"I concur. She is competent, regardless of how you all feel." Agreed another voice. He almost didn't recognize it, belonging to the man in the multicolor coat. Number six.

"You all need to stop. I can't..." The Doctor was losing focus. He could barely see the gun now, it's pieces floating away.

"I don't know, I think now is the perfect time, considering you are dragging her to slaughter," the one with the Northern-English accent piped in. He could almost picture his smug face in that leather jacket.

"There are no happy endings in war. And this is war. You and I both know that," the old warrior interrupted his successor solemnly.

"Good grief. Can't you pompous nitwits let the man think?" Said the high-born tone of his third face. "I don't think the rest of you have any say in this at all."

"Indeed," replied a softer voice, his fourth self, "just the three of us traveled with Ms. Smith. Not the rest of you." He seemed to play the voice of reason.

"Listen to me," his third voice started again, "things are worse now than ever. Every corner of the universe will burn if you fail at this. You cannot be pig headed."

"He's right you know." His fourth voice was unanimously in agreement. "You cannot trust anyone. Not even yourself. But you can trust Sarah Jane."

"You always could." Came the third.

"The rest of them don't understand her quite as we do," Four mused.

"They didn't travel with her and witness her brilliance," said the third.

"You are doing the right thing. She wouldn't let you do anything else. You know that." The Fourth concluded, "Now... stop listening to us and stop Morbius!"

The Doctor's head cleared in the snap of a finger. He saw the Epoch Lens clearer than ever. The pieces shifted and he concentrated, his mind following one, the lense itself. It twirled and spun through the air, landing within a bell tower.

The Doctor recognized it, and the sleepy, snowy, town surrounding it. The town of Christmas, on Trenzalor. What would ever possess him to put a piece there? Perhaps he had, during the Time War, learned of his supposed burial ground, and erased that along with the gun's location.

Just as he was about to pull free, the picture changed. A pair of human soldiers, in tactical gear came. He watched them pick up a small box left atop the familiar bell tower. He could just make out letters on their vests; "TWCA."

Again his vision shifted, to the lens' new home. The massive stone skyscraper jutted into the stormy sky. It was perfectly square and uniform, giving it a foreboding feeling. A straight line of windows was its only noteworthy feature, vertically bisecting each side from top to bottom. It bore no marks of identification besides this. The rocky planet bellow was barren; only lava rock and sulfur.

The Doctor began to pull from the Telepathic Circuits. That was all he needed to know. He knew what that place was, and where. If the Epoch Lens had been captured by them, it was still there. Very few beings would break into there, let alone could.

His fingers finally pulled free from the TARDIS, and he opened his eyes. The TARDIS console glowed before him. He saw a line of coordinates running across the screen. His time machine had pulled them directly from his mind. All he had to do was pull the lever.

He turned about, noticing Sarah Jane and Jack staring at him tensely. Jack appeared almost studying, while Sarah had a more worried expression.

"Did it work?" Jack asked cautiously, "Did it show you where you hid the pieces?" The Doctor nodded, turning around, twiddling a few switches before they departed.

"I saw the first one..." he trailed, "It's been taken." This just got harder, if that was possible.

"Morbius?" Sarah questioned, biting her lip.

"Correction, moved..."

"Alright. So, who nicked it?" Ever cocky Jack leaned against the TARDIS. "Davros? Cyberman maybe? Something less traveled like Zygons or Vinvocci maybe?" He was far too excited about this prospect for The Doctor's taste.

"The TWCA," The Doctor couldn't help but smirk at Jack's confused expression.

"Who's that?" He asked.

The Doctor turned around, to include Sarah in his vision. She was equally clueless, and for good reason.

"Very few races across this universe remember or even know about the Time War. They don't know that The Daleks and The Time Lords fought in a veritable race to extinction, that nearly destroyed all of creation. Those that do only know the basic outcome; the Daleks were nearly wiped out, and the Time Lords were either killed or dissappeared. Other than the casualties that is."

"Casualties?" Sarah questioned.

"Other races or groups that got sucked into it or whose planets became battle grounds. The Sisterhood of Karn, The Nesteans, The Cyclors, The Technomancers, The Vrood, The Taalyens; just a few examples. They know exactly how The War transpired."  
The Doctor turned, pulling the screen over closer, and pulled the lever back. The Time Machine started it's grinding roar through the vortex. They may as well get going while he was blathering.

"What does that have to do with these guys?" Jack pointed to the screen.

"If you'll kindly shut up, I'll tell you." The Doctor rolled his blue eyes impatiently. "There's a funny thing about war... it's a technological boon. It seems we are at our best figuring out new ways to kill. Especially when the need to do so arises. The Time War was no exception."

"It seemed like every day there was a new, terrible, weapon created by one side or another. Whether it was a malignant virus developed by the Taalyens that could rot an entire species from the inside out, or a Time Lord bomb that regressed a whole planet to its primeval state, it never got better. It always got worse. "

"Doctor..." Sarah started with a worried tone. He raised his hand, quieting her.

"As with all things... The War ended. However, there are always things left over, especially when both sides lose like they did in this war. Granted, there wasn't a lot but what remained was dangerous. That was where the TWCA came in."

"And..." Jack motioned with the rolling of his hand.

"TWCA; Time War Containment Authority. These individuals all have complete knowledge of the Time War. They collect the war's left overs."

"For what purpose? What do they do want with it?" was Sarah's skeptical question.

"Exactly as their name implies; contain it," shrugged the Time Lord, "They see the remnants of the war as dangerous and deadly. They don't want anyone to get their hands on it, good intentions or otherwise. There are even rumors of them holding a few war criminals in there."

"So... they're like the Black Archive," Jack snorted.

"In a way." Unit's secret vault of alien artifacts was the children's version of this.

"That sounds like it's going to be hard to break into," groused Sarah.

"Break into, and out of," corrected the Time Lord, "they collect weapons of war... and you're looking at the deadliest one..." the silence that followed was almost tangible.

"You're not a weapon..." Sarah whispered.

"To them I am. Which makes this a dangerous place for me, and by association, you." He could imagine what a feather in their cap it would be to nab him; The Doctor. The Oncoming Storm.

"I'm surprised you have allowed them to operate," Jack wondered aloud.

"They have likely prevented many deaths by hoarding the discarded weapons of war. I don't have a problem with that." They saved lives...even if they could potentially be a danger to his. They had never come after him though, so he had never considered them outwardly dangerous. He, however, was going to be the aggressor here. He didn't like it.

"I would assume you have a plan?" prodded the Time Agent.

"I've thought about it, encase I ever had to break in at some point. They have a shaky alliance with the Shadow Proclamation."

"Oh wonderful," Sarah griped. The Doctor echoed her sentiments. Although a force of law in the universe, their strict, stringent polices were sometimes more of a disadvantage than anything. They didn't look at the people or circumstances to cases, just the laws. As far as The Doctor was concerned, things were not always so black and white.

"They consider the Time War to be the TWCA's jurisdiction. When they find weapons or criminals involved in the war, they are brought to them. They are also required report any cases they believe to have Time War connections."

"Such as?"

"Someone tries to break the time lock and travel back to change the outcome of the war. Or someone is killed by a Time War Weapon." There were more possibilities, but those were the most frequent.

"Alright, let's say that's the cover we use to get in," thought Sarah aloud, leaning on the console next to Jack, "wouldn't they immediately know it's a ruse? We aren't Judoon."

"Not necessarily," Jack replied, "there are a lot of non-Judoon operatives. They just tend to do... undercover work. So, in theory, this could work."

"Plus, we have psychic paper on our side," The Doctor added. His mind was already formulating a plan as his eyes fell on Handles. "And him..." he pointed to the head. "Hand me the bag from the shelf over there if you would."

As Jack retrieved the duffel bag, The Doctor popped his sonic screwdriver from his hood's pocket. He pointed it at the neck of Handles, and with a warbling whine, unhooked him from the console.

"There weren't Cybermen in the Time War, were there?" Sarah worried.

"No, but I think we're particularly incompetent investigators who think there were," The Doctor chuckled. It was just idiotic enough to maybe work. It was the only plan he had though, so he had to go with it.

With a dull thunk, the TARDIS jarred into a landing.

"We're here," The Doctor took the bag and jammed the Cyberman head inside. He slung it over his shoulder, then twiddled with the controls. "I'm sending the TARDIS away, encase they catch on to our ruse."

"I hope we got here before Morbius," he saw Sarah take a deep breath. He was simultaneously glad she was here and wished she was gone.

"If not, you can expect a fight," Jack replied. He jammed another power pack into his Villengard Special, the revolver-esque laser lighting up blue.

"Your wrong..."The Doctor started toward the door, "you can expect a slaughter."

* * *

The Corsair stepped gingerly from her TARDIS, her green eyes searching the landscape before her. The red desert stretched out before her, but the sky was mercilessly dark. The sky above was made almost entirely of asteroids, stretching as far as the eye could see like armor plating. A pair of suns occasionally peered through the gaps in the space rocks, giving way small shafts of light for mere minutes at a time. In the distance, she spotted the massive hole in the earth. That was the dig site she was looking for. She had finally found it.

She pulled her red curls out of her face, quickly tying them back into a ponytail. She shouldered her gun, and glanced back at her Time Machine. She could only barely see the shimmer of it in the shaft of sunlight, but it was otherwise invisible to the naked eye. Good. She wanted it that way. She started walking toward the crater.

She had never, in any of the other universes, been to this planet, Piekto. She felt like she was indeed finally getting some work done. Most of that, was due to Jack's efforts.

She was more than willing to admit that. Normally she was practically glued to The Doctor by this point. She had to keep this regeneration alive, no matter what. The problem was, it never gave her time to attempt to tear apart the Heretic's Code. Those were the two parts to this that were the only way to defeat the Great Intelligence. A loss of one or the other, lost the entire fight.

She tried to push aside a sudden pang of guilt. She felt bad, for so many things, but most of all, about lying to Jack. It had to be done, but she still didn't like it. She didn't want him to lose hope. She needed him on board.

The truth was, The Heretic Code never changed. In every universe, through every time, it remained the same. No matter what the circumstances were, no matter what differences a universe exhibited, it was always the same. She had just never been able to decode it. Not just out of a lack of time, as she had led him to believe, but because it was beyond her skills.

She hated to admit it, but even now, all these centuries later, she had still made almost no progress in decoding it. Every time she thought she had it nailed down, it halted her attempts, or she couldn't get through the firewalls. It was, in laymen's terms, the most aggressive computer virus in all of creation. And she was out of her depth.

So now she was going about it differently. With Jack essentially running interference, she was no longer attacking the code directly. Instead she was finding its roots. And it had led her here.

She had attempted to research the code. This had been difficult, considering almost no one knew of its existence. However, her sources were varied and her friends were in low places. There were always whispers in the darker places of the galaxy. Undercurrents and rumors to be sifted through.

She had heard rumors of a virus that could afflict Daleks, although it was from a long time ago, during the Time War. She had initially seen this as a dead end. Almost everyone and everything that had existed then was either dead, destroyed or gone.

Then, she heard of The Volatix Cabal. It was not the first time she had heard their name. During the War, the Daleks began experimenting on themselves to find a better way to destroy The Time Lords. The first group that came of this had been the Cult of Skaro. At this point, they were as legendary as their single surviving member, Dalek Caan.

But there was a second group to come from this; one that was far less known, but just as deadly; The Volatix Cabal. These Daleks were programed for creativity. They were created with the express purpose of finding new, deranged ways to make the Daleks stronger. Things no sane person would ever consider. In the spirit of building a better mouse trap, they were also to find more efficient ways to kill.

They had developed some of the most heinous Dalek weapons; Temporal Bombs, the Malignant Songbox, Vortex Springrazors, and Blackmatter Traps. None of these mattered in particular to The Corsair, until she had done some digging in files of The Papel Mainframe. That was when she ran across a word all too familiar; Heretic.

In this case, the Heretic Contagion. The Silence had almost nothing in their data base about it, aside from the fact that it infected Daleks. That alone made it unique, but they believed that the Daleks themselves created it. Why would the Daleks create a virus that would infect themselves?

That was something the Silence, or anyone else for that matter, did not know. They did not know what it did, how it was created, or why. The Corsair intended to find out however. It was far too much of a coincidence for the words Dalek, Virus, and Heretic to crop up together again.

So she set out to find the Volatix Cabal, which had turned out to be much harder than she expected. They had a main base during the Time War on the planet Lujhimene, the home world of the Cyclors. That lead had turned out to be another dead end, as that sect had been destroyed, by The Doctor.

The Papel Mainframe had one other base on file, one on Piekto. The Silence had never followed up to find it, as the asteroid field around the planet was nearly impenetrable. Unless you were a Time Lord with a machine capable of reversing time to when the field was not there, then fast-forwarding once inside. Perks of having a Type ninety-three TARDIS.

As The Corsair approached the pit, she pulled her gun from her back. She could see the bottom some eighty feet down, with a dirt path spiraling down the cliff face. A dark cave was bored into the rocks at the bottom. She spotted groups of metal pipes jutting from it, some running along the ground, others snaking up the wall and entering crevices in the rocks further up.

That was when she saw the first Spoonhead. Looking like a metal skeleton, topped with a glowing, oblong, light bulb for a head, they made her insides boil with rage just looking at them. They were the original foot soldiers of The Great Intelligence, the harbingers of death. The destroyers of universes. Of everything she loved.

She calmed as she aimed her laser gun, peering down the scope. She couldn't let her emotions wreck her shot. This one was made of the standard metal, not the silver of those upgraded by the Cyberman. It was not going to be a problem. She lined up her shot, and squeezed the trigger.

With a flash of violent red, the laser streaked into its upper torso, blowing it apart. Now that it lay in a twitching, sparking mess, she headed down the hill, keeping an ever-watchful eye on the cave exit. She knew now she was in the correct place. The chances of coming to a planet known to be Volatix Cabal stronghold and finding soldiers of The Great Intelligence being a coincidence were non-existent.

She stepped down onto the soil and walked toward the cave. It was a dimly lit tunnel, the rock walls giving way to lumpy Dalek metal. Round yellow wall lights flickered along the way, pipes running on the ceiling dripped a strange green fluid.

She could see a pair of glowing Spoonhead faces in the distance. They both began moving forward upon seeing her, raising their wrist guns.

The Corsair immediately aimed her gun at the nearest robot, quickly pulling the trigger. In an explosion of shattered glass, the first dropped to the ground. Its friend returned fire, a pair of blue lasers streaming past her right shoulder. She skittered toward the left side of the entrance, taking cover against the wall, another pair of lasers scorching where she had just been.

She managed to peek around the corner, her eyes catching two more bobbing light bulbs coming down the tunnel. More blue lasers followed, zapping the wall near her. She returned fire twice, her first shot missing wide, the second blowing an arm off the nearest enemy. It jerked as electricity sparked across it, but it managed to return with a pair of shots.

One grazed her right arm, and she recoiled, immediately sucking her teeth in pain. She glanced down at the bright, red, shiny skin. Second degree burn; not as bad as some of those she had acquired in the past. She returned with her own plasma shot, taking its legs from beneath it. It landed with a crash, laying inert.

She broke cover, rushing down the tunnel, as fast as her legs could carry her. Blue beams zapped past her on her run toward the pair of Spoonheads. She didn't want to get pinned down at the mouth of the cave. Lest they fire...

Just as the thought passed through her head, one cocked its wrist to the side, and fired. With a whoosh, and leaving a trail of smoke behind it, the miniature rocket spiraled toward her. Her eyes widened for a second before she dove to the ground. The projectile sailed harmlessly over her head. The deafening explosion behind her was heralded by a cloud of dust mixed with burning shrapnel.

From her prone position, she cracked off another shot quickly. Her aim was true, blowing the head off the robot's partner in a shower of sparks.  
The rocketeer quickly twisted its wrist to the side, then back, reloading. The Corsair had to act fast. She couldn't out run this one or dodge it, so she instead aimed at the gun itself. She squeezed the trigger.

She covered her head as the robot was engulfed in a ball of flames. Metal ceiling tiles rained down around the explosion, and dust filled her nose. She coughed and sputtered, looking up.

The Spoonhead was obliterated, leaving only a crater in its wake. The Corsair stood and continued walking further in. As she did, the stone of the tunnel gave way almost completely to Dalek iron. It was dimly lit by yellow Dalek lights, and she could hear humming from within. Power; there was definitely something being powered down here. The ceiling was taken over completely by a mess of pipes intertwining and wrapping in and around each other in a confusing maze.

After a few minutes of walking, she came to a door. It was a massive round hatch, taking up the entire width of the tunnel. It was already open, leading to a dusty ramp. The round, yellow lights flickered along the wall all the way down to the landing. From there she could see another ramp veering left, deeper below ground.

On the landing stood another Spoonhead, this one with a black blaster in its clamp-hands. A Cyberman gun. Fantastic. She raised her own rifle, aiming at the back of its head. Its sensors had obviously not picked her up yet. She squeezed the trigger.

The laser when right through it, flashing into the wall ahead of it. She narrowed her eyes for a second, not understanding what had just happened. As she heard the dull thunk behind her it all clicked. Hologram; it was a trap.

She whipped around, firing immediately, sending a Spoonhead assassin sprawling backwards in an explosion of sparks. Two more dropped down from the ceiling, coming out of cloak. One carried the hologram's rifle, the other's hand lighting up with static.

The Corsair leapt backwards, taking off down the ramp, a barrage of laser fire and electricity in her wake. She dove for cover around the corner. Slamming her back to the wall, blinking twice to activate her sonic contacts. She glanced around the corner, the pair in hot pursuit, deadly shots blazing around her. She concentrated, staring at the door's control panel. She just needed to concentrate, and stay calm for the lenses to work.

She heard the whining warbling, and the controls emitted a sickly beep. The door began to roll to a grinding close, just as the first Spoonhead passed through it. She watched as it got caught between the door and the entry. It struggled to squeeze through, it's electronics whining. It was too late however, as with a loud crunch and a shower of fiery sparks, it was cut in two, no match for Dalek steel. Its robotic limbs jerked a few times before laying still.

She nodded, letting out a deep sigh. She could do with a little less fighting for once. It just became exhausting after a while. She turned around, walking down the ramp.

It dumped down into a long hall that appeared to stretch forward the length of a football field. Dalek in design, it was simple and functional alone. There were yellow lights every few feet, and the ceiling again a mess of wires and ducts. It was sterile in every way, but for the words painted on the walls.

In between each light, in deep red paint, was a single word; "Extermin-hate". At first, she thought the misspelled word was just her eyes playing tricks, but it was scrawled this way all the way down. If this had not tipped her off already that she had just been thrust into the mouth of madness, the thing before her drove it home.

At first, she wasn't even sure the corpse was a Dalek, but she could make out the mushy, long dead remains hanging from the charred hole in the exoskeleton. It was created of Dalek metal, silvery gold in color, but instead of the normal salt shaker shape, it was a massive diamond. It was propelled by three strange crab leg like apparatuses instead of hovering or rolling. The only recognizably Dalek feature was its eye stalk. Even that however, was altered into the diamond pattern.

The burnt hole in the diamond's center had obviously killed it. She momentarily wondered what had done that, before being distracted by another creature down the hall. This one also walked on the same crab legs, only four. It was round however, and nearly every inch was covered in eye stalks, reminding her of a mace. This one was tipped over, with a large hole in it.

Further down she spotted another, this one appearing more in traditional Dalek design. It's gun and plunger had been replaced by two strange snake like arms, both tipped with metal hands. Disturbingly, she noted the fingers on each hand were instead a needle. She could not tell what it's upper body had been, as it had been blown to oblivion.

The Corsair started walking, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. This place was eerie; between the corpses of obviously mad Daleks and the thought of what must have gone on here it made her nauseous.

The door at the end was her destination, but she peered into those on either side of the hall. Each was a lab of some kind, as she expected. One contained a dissection area, while another was full of human sized capsules. She passed one with a chair, above which hung a mess of now-destroyed robotic arms. They all held a different tool; saws, knives, needles, lasers and more. The one nearest the end held a massive vat of sludge, with a table half dunked in it. She shuddered to think what they did with that.

Each room contained more of the "creative Dalek's" corpses. It seemed like each was more crazed than the next. One was normal in shape but had covered itself in a sloppy patchwork of animal skins. Another had grafted spider leg appendages to its head, with its partner having replaced its lower body with tracks like a tank. The one that bothered the most was one that had seemingly found a way to grow more tentacles. It's yellow, bulbous, squid tentacles protruded from every crack and seam, even having replaced its weapons, eye and plunger.

She finally reached the door, and activated the keypad with her sonic contacts. It bleeped in an off-key way, and the round door rolled open.

The large octagon shaped room had once been the biggest laboratory. All the equipment had been moved how however, the tables, tools, and robotic inventions all corralled against the walls.

The center was dominated now by a massive glass cage instead. Within sat another Dalek monstrosity. This one however, was alive.

Its body was in a clear globe, filled with green goo. She could see the fat, bloated squid creature floating inside. Its single eye stared at The Corsair as she came in, glancing around the room.

The globe was propped up by hundreds of tiny legs, constantly skittering in perpetual movement. They skittered toward her, the Daleks body moving and swaying upon the insects carrying it. It stopped just inches from the glass.  
The Corsair was unsure why this Dalek was left alive, while all others were killed. She was also unsure why the Spoonhead's were guarding this lab, and if it was important enough to guard, why the Great Intelligence had not posted more soldiers. She was only sure of one thing, this was likely what remained of the Volatix Cabal.

It stared at her for only a short time, before speaking, it's voice a low, electrical, Daleks, growl.

"It has been long since a homo sapien has come to see me," it began, "besides him, of course." The Corsair could guess what man he was referring to.

"The Great Intelligence," breathed The Corsair.

"So he calls himself, but he is but a mere child playing with clay," the Dalek replied, "so tell me, little ape, why have you come to the Volatix Cabal?" She did not like how he referred to her as an ape but he was a Dalek, superiority was in their design. If she could get information out of him, she would let go his insults. She just had to hope his hate for his captor outweighed his hate for everything else.

"I came seeking the Heretic Contagion," she answered directly. Its electronic laugh echoed through the room, it's globe body rocking back and forth.

"You are not the first flesh ape to ask me for such. The other came long ago and found us. He only needed one of us, the creator, Dalek Vox."

"You have named yourself?" The Corsair was surprised. Very few Daleks did that. As far she knew, only the Cult of Skaro had done so. Although, these Daleks obviously broke tradition.

"I have done as all of you uneducated sapiens do. I have heard you call out so many times for others of your kind. In fear, terror, pain. I quite like the ring of names. To be able to see the flesh and meat and bone of those I dissected and call them by a name."

"Names are important, a title you choose is who you are..." The Corsair murmured. All Time Lords believed that. You choose a name as a promise.

"Especially to you Chronach Apes. Yours are always so long and languid. My how I would love to crack and tear you open," Vox's electronic breathing quickened excitedly, "see your flesh and hearts beat. Whose name would you call on my table?" She had absolutely had enough of this conversation.

"I'm not here to discuss your perversions, Dalek filth," spat the Time Lady, "I want to know about the Heretic Contagion."

"And what incentive do I have little sapien?" Vox cooed.

"I'll free you from this prison by ending your life," it was her only viable option to offer. She would not unleash one of these maniacs back into the universe. Besides, one less Dalek was not a bad thing.

"To be destroyed and opened like my brothers... who's name shall I call on my death?" It mused, "Your offer pleases me."

"Then tell me what I want to know," The Corsair ordered. She was over playing games with a homicidal octopus.

"I would if I could, but The Great Intelligence has ravaged my mind. He has taken the information from me, as he wanted. He conquered us, and took his spoils. Only I remain, in case he wishes to again invade me."

"But he has not come here for quite some time. He has gotten what he needed. I have slowly watched my captors disappear. I no longer hold meaning to his ilk any longer." The Corsair shook her head.

"Then you are useless to me as well," she turned around, and began walking toward the door. She had no time for dead ends.

"You apes are so rash. No patience," scolded the Dalek. Its skittering legs moved it backwards, it's single eye locked on the Time Lord.

"Speak quickly, or we are done." The Corsair stopped walking, but did not turn around.

"There was another who worked upon the Heretic Contagion with me. He was captured after the way. He is the only other member of our Cabal left." Now The Corsair turned around.

"If you are lying..." she began.

"I have no reason to lie to you. The Time War is over, and the Volatix Cabal has been annihilated by either The Great Intelligence or the Predator." The Corsair recognized that name. It was one of the names the Daleks called The Doctor.

"I only wish for the knowledge we strived for to live on. For the genocide of the future to be facilitated by my past." Always all about murder... even the creative ones were set on mass destruction.

"You are disgusting," The Corsair shook her head.

"The feeling is mutual." Vox replied.

"Who kidnapped your little playmate?"

"We tracked him just before The Great Intelligence came. An ape tribe calling themselves The Time War Containment Authority."

A cold chill ran through The Corsair. She had been there before, many times. In more than one universe she had followed The Doctor into the war zone that became that place. She had been trying to protect him, never having the time to look for anything to defeat the Great Intelligence. She had never guessed that that place could hold the key to breaking the Heretic's Code. She had told Jack she would see him soon, but even she had not considered it would be this soon.

"I will seek this other Dalek. I hope you did indeed tell me the truth." replied The Corsair.

"Then hold up your end of the bargain. Kill me," Vox ordered, moving forward again. She smirked in return.

"No, I think I'll let you rot here until I find out if you told me the truth or not," The Corsair replied, "see you in a few thousand years."

"No! No, you will kill me! You will release me!" Yelled Vox, his electronic voice crackling with rage. The Corsair continued walking, leaving behind the screaming Dalek. He probably tormented enough people, so why shouldn't he be tormented himself. She had more important things to do. Like figure out how to save the universe from The Great Intelligence.


	10. Rubicon

_(Author's note: So, I have been asked about this a few times, and thought I should adress it. People have asked me if I will continue this series with 12 when the new Doctor arrives. In short, yes. I will not change Doctors with the show. This was meant as an in-between season and thus is how it will stay, no matter how many Doctors come and go as I write. 12 will always have a special place to me, and *here come the controversy* feel he was a fantastic Doctor hamstrung by hit-or-miss writing. I feel he got a raw deal, in the same way that 9 did. Regardless, my work with 12 will continue from now until the finial story. I just hope that, despite the shift in Doctor, you all do as well._

 _Secondarily, I guess I should adress the new Doctor. People have asked how I feel about a female Doctor. I am for it, if it was done for the correct reason. I want them to have chosen Jodie Whittaker because she is correct for the job, not just based on gender.. I don't want them to have chosen her for shock value or to appease people who have been calling for a female lead. Because that will not last, and I want a Doctor who lasts. I want her to be The Doctor because she was right for it, as Capaldi was right for it and as Smith was before him. Truthfully, on a personal leval I am somewhat disappointed, because I was rooting for Phebe Waller-Bridge or Kris Marshall. However, I refuse to judge it before I see it. I am not for or against her. I am not for or againstany gender, race, or age playing the role. I'm for good writing. If they do that, and stop fudging plots in the last ten minutes because they've written themselves into a corner, LOOKING AT YOU "IN THE FOREST OF THE NIGHT" I am a happy whovian. I am interested to hear your opinions in the reviews. All I ask, is if you disagree with someone or myself, keep it civilised ok? Happy reading outlaw gents and shady ladys)_

As The Doctor stared up at the tall, monolithic building, the pit of his stomach began to swirl. Jack Harkness stood to the left of him, his gun holstered, and his navy coat buttoned. He was looking quite official, like an agent of The Shadow Proclamation. Sarah Jane stood on the other side.

She had now donned a formal, button-down top, that was tucked into a pair of dark jeans. She had wanted to look the part of what she was impersonating, and The Doctor could not blame her. He knew how hard this was to be.

The people at the Time War Containment Authority were not the normal sort. They were not easily deceived or tricked. They had fully immersed themselves in the weapons of past destruction. They were well aware of the Time War, and all of it's technology. Technology that most civilized people would think impossible or a fantasy.

The Doctor adjusted the bag over his shoulder, containing Handles. He knew how thin this cover was. He had downplayed his dark feelings about this, but they had no other option.

He turned his head for a few moments, looking at the magma-lined sulfur fields. The putrid smell wafted over from there, the smell of rotten eggs. He was beginning to echo Sarah Jane's sentiments just before they had entered the work house. Why didn't people put their fortresses in nice places?

"Everyone remember their cover?" Jack nodded in reply, and Sarah echoed it. "Good. Just follow my lead. If things go badly, or we get separated, find the gun piece and get out of here. Even if you must leave me behind. Jack, do you have your Manipulator?"

"Never leave the house without it," smirked the Time Agent, tapping his wrist.

"That is our exit strategy, because I have the feeling that we'll need it. Let's go."

With that, he started up the slight incline, toward the front door. It was a massive stone slab, with a scanner in the center. On either side were a pair of laser arrays. The massive guns followed them as they walked to the scanner. The Doctor hoped the Authority bought their ruse. If not they were about to be blown to pieces.

As he stood before it, a voice that came from beyond the scanner spoke to them.

"State your business. You are currently trespassing in a level twelve security zone. Any attempt at entry or escape without permission will result in your death." This was the tenuous part. The Doctor needed to be deliberate in his speech and very, very carful.

"I am Special Agent Smith, accompanied by Special Agent Smith, and Special Investigator Harkness, sector ten of The Shadow Proclamation Time Distortion And Tampering Agency. We believe we are in possession of a Containment Level Seven object built by a person that is a Level Ten Chronal Fugitive." The Doctor waited for what felt like hours as the scanner remained silent.

Finally an answer. "Which fugitive is your suspect?"

"The Master." The Doctor was not completely lying. Handles was an M3 Cyberman head. They were created by The Master's most recent, female, regeneration. It was not a completely far fetched lie, and he was praying they would buy it.

"You are allowed entry to this facility. Any aggressive or violent actions inside will result in your death. Please claim any and all weapons on your person."

"None," The Doctor replied. The sonic screwdriver did not count as a weapon. It didn't kill or harm or hurt. Not directly.

"None," answered Sarah Jane as well. She looked at The Doctor, nodding briskly.

"One Villengard Special Laser Revolver," Jack winked at The Doctor with a smirk. Jack had another gun, and the Time Lord knew it. Where he had it... that was another matter he did not want to think about.

"All weapons will be confiscated on arrival. Please step back."

All three of them did as they were asked. Slowly, the stone door crept up, revealing the entry lobby of the facility.

The Doctor was not surprised to see how official it was. It reminded him of a large police station; the walls were lined with glass doors, leading to offices. Each had names inscribed on them, each with titles such as Doctor, Investigator, Marshal, and Officer. The doors were protected by hand print scanners, and a key pad. Both east and west sides of the room were perfectly symmetrical; the same amount of offices and each with an elevator in the center.

He took special note of these elevators. There were more key pads to one side, though this time pared with what looked to be a retinal scanner in the door. Above each were cameras, attached to yet another laser turret. The upper floors were the vaults. He guessed one could only reach certain floors with proper clearance levels.

The main concourse was wide open, with a large tree growing in the center of the room. The Doctor recognized its type. It was covered in red, spade shaped leaves. The leaves themselves had a coat of red needles, resembling Earth's pine trees. The end of each branch was tipped with a red, rose-like flower. The bloom's aroma resembled roses mixed with morning glories. He could see the soil it was planted in had sprouted a crimson grass. He remembered that too, running through it as a child thousands of years ago. It was a Crimson Rivìere. The last of it's kind. A tree from Gallifrey.

He could see a branching hall on the other side of the tree, though he could not say where it actually went. The concourse was quite the hive of activity. Men and women in white coats milled about, some conversing, others waiting for the elevator. Amongst them, and standing along the walls in standard intervals, were guards. They were the same men he had seen through the Telepathic Circuits. Each wore tactical gear; an armored vest, helmet and pants. They each wore green targeting goggles obscuring their eyes, and some a mask that hid the mouth.

Their guns were much more high tech. All of them were laser guns, and they reminded him of inferior version's of Gallifreyan weapons. The Doctor could guess they had backwards engineered Time Lord weapons they found. He wondered what other experiments they had done using his people's technology.

As The Doctor and his companions walked in, three men were already approaching them. Two were regular guards, flanking a third, scientist type. This man was tall, and looked to be middle aged. His sandy colored hair had only just begun to go gray on the edges, though with the short cut one barely noticed. His doltish blue eyes examined from behind a pair of thick glasses, and The Doctor could feel him sizing them up as they approached him. The slight smile from him was almost genuine, but was ruined by a strong jaw not use to such expressions. He wore a white lab coat, with a prominently displayed ID. If he was coming to meet them, he was obviously of some important.

"Hello," he greeted, holding his hands behind his back, coming close to them, "I hear you three are from the Shadow Proclamation. Some identification will be in order." He was quick to the point, no fussing.

The Doctor dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, with the psychic paper inside. A useful tool, it reflected ones own thoughts back to them. If one expected to see the identification for a Shadow Proclamation officer, that was what they saw. It worked on most. Only those trained to see through it or had very little imagination were immune. The Doctor hoped this man was a dreamer with a lack of proper training.

The Doctor held up the paper to the man, who scrutinized if carefully.

"Special Agent John Smith. This is my partner Special Agent Sarah Jane Smith, no relation, and Special Investigator Jack Harkness. We're from sector ten of The Shadow Proclamation Time Distortion And Tampering Agency. We believe we have a case for you."

"Hmmmmm," the man murmured, "your paperwork seems in order. I am Professor Charles Lemay, the Head Director and Researcher of the Time War Containment Authority. Pardon my suspicion on the outset, I am used to dealing with Investigators O'Prey and Pronostra."

"You can't be to careful these days," Sarah Jane nodded in mock understanding.

"Indeed," Charles immediately returned to the point, "in the spirit of such, I do hope that you don't mind a quick security check. All weapons must be confiscated."

"Of course," nodded The Doctor, "just... the bag is a bit volatile. It took the boys in Sector Five two hours to deactivate the self destruction protocols."

"It isn't a problem, just lay it down here." The Doctor set the bag on the floor as he was told, and the pair of guards set on their task. The Doctor spread his arms, the man roughly patting him down, before rifling through his pockets. One by one they pulled out his items; cigarette case of Jelly Babies, yo-yo, small ball of yarn, and a handful of walnuts.

Lastly they found his sonic screwdriver. The man turned the metal tool over in his hands, examining the green head, before turning to Charles.

"We'll need to confiscate that too," Charles said, absently rubbed his glasses clean with his shirt, "sonic tools can cause breaches in security." The Doctor hated the idea but understood that if he was to get anywhere he would need to submit.

"Understood," The Doctor shrugged.

He saw them take Sarah's as well, before heading to Jack. Jack played his part well, handing them his Villengard Special before they ever touched him. They patted him down with no further event. Curious; The Doctor could have sworn Jack had a second gun.

"What about my Vortex Manipulator?" Volunteered the former Time Agent.  
"Anti-Shift Generator; there is no Time Travel into or out of this building." One of the guards explained gruffly. The Doctor inwardly cursed. That mucked up one exit strategy. They would need to figure something else out. A TARDIS could probably get in but anything beneath that was essentially a paperweight.

"They're clear, sir," one soldier finally said, as both took their positions next to Charles.

"Excellent, walk with me, tell me what you have," he motioned for them to follow and they did just that.

"Well, we believe we have uncovered a plot to change the outcome of the Time War," The Doctor started.

"Really?" Charles' eyebrows shot up, "who do you believe the culprit is, and by what means?" They continued around the tree, heading toward the branching halls.

"The Master," Jack piped in.

"He has built an army of Cybermen under his control, far superior to any of the other models we have ever seen." Sarah Jane backed up their story. She knew all about the M3 Cybermen ever since they encountered Handles. All of those things were true. Using the truth to lie; he had taught her well.

"What purpose would he have to do such a thing?" questioned Charles, a befuddled look on his face. The Doctor answered.

"To not only save Gallifrey from destruction, but then upgrade the Time Lords and bring them under his control." It was a plausible plot; The Master's plans were always unhinged. The Archive's Professor remained unreadable.

"What evidence do you have to support this theory?"

"Currently, it is only that; a theory." Jack shrugged.

"But we disabled one of the Cybermen, and managed to get it's head, complete with intact memory banks," added the Time Lord. He saw Charles smirk.

"Let me guess, you can't crack the firewalls and you need our help." The condescension was maddening. Ofcorse he would believe himself better because of his stolen technology.

"The plans would be in there if..." The Doctor stopped mid sentence as they entered the adjoining hall, and turned the corner. The long hall was filled with soldiers, two dozen or more. They all pointed guns at the group.

Slowly, Charles turned around, a wicked grin twisting his lips.

"Come now, how long did you think I would believe this ruse? Did you really think you could fool me, Doctor?"

"At least another ten minutes," his blood ran cold. This was it. They were cought.

" You must have known we would have the face of the greatest Time War-Criminal still living. All the faces," he said with a snort, "I've probably seen regenerations you haven't had yet!"

"And the psychic paper! That was quite a joke! To think that a man who spends his life mired in technology most humans can't even comprehend would be fooled by something so small as psychic paper! The arrogance is astounding."

"Hey! Look, we..." Jack started. He was rudely interrupted by the guard jamming the barrel of his gun in his back.

"Frankly Mr. Harkness, I don't give a damn what you have to say." With his hand raised to silence them, Charles shook his head, self satisfied with Jack's shocked expression.

"Yes, I know who you are as well. We have all of his associates on file. The Rose's, the Harry's, the Perri's and the Donna's. Even you Ms. Sarah Smith."

"That's Sarah Jane to you," she fired back. He rolled his eyes.

"Take these two to holding chamber B. I will interrogate them later. I'll take the big prize to room A." The man was practically beaming as he grabbed the Doctor by the back of his neck, shoving him roughly down the hall.

"Charles, listen to me!" Started the Scotsman yelling, "you have no idea what's coming! You need to," he never finished, as he saw the stun gun reach for his neck. With a sharp sting, everything went black.

* * *

Sarah Jane sat calmly in the uncomfortable steel chair, resting her arms on an equally uncomfortable steel table. Jack, on the other hand, paced back and forth like a caged animal. Both had been doing this activity for the last half hour. The men, so confidant in their security, hadn't even cuffed their hands. There was good reason for such confidence.

The room they had been thrust into was a tiny, featureless, interrogation chamber. There were no windows; she could barely even tell where the door was it blended into the wall so well. It was directly down the hall from where they were caught. The Doctor had been taken even further down the hall.

Worry weighed on her. She wasn't concerned for herself oddly enough. She was no one special, not to these people. She was not involved in the Time War, and neither was Jack. They could hold them, yes, but they were no catch. Not like The Doctor. The man who had single-handedly put an end to the war. The man nicknamed the Oncoming Storm. The man who was one of the War's only survivor.

She wondered what they were doing to him. Were they torturing him? Were they going to "contain" him, as though he were a weapon of mass destruction? Experiment on him? How could they get him out, when they themselves were trapped.

"We need to get out of here," Jack growled, repeating that for the fifth time. Sarah sighed.

"Say it a little louder, maybe it's the door's secret password," she said sarcastically.  
"You could try and figure something out! Because I've got nothing!" His tone was sharp.

"You need to try and calm down, shouting and pacing isn't helping anyone!" Sarah was equally sharp. This was not helping.

Suddenly, the wall ahead chuffed open. A pair of armored guards clunked in. One held a gun, the other a long syringe filled with a green liquid.

"Director Lemay has ordered your release," one barked, "but Level Eight Containment Procedure must be taken before you are cleared." Sarah Jane had a horrible feeling about this.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Jack seemed to hesitate. The man with the gun had his weapon trained on Jack, she wondered if they knew of Jack's peculiar nature. Probably not.

"Your memories will be wiped. Completely. The process is painless." The man motioned to the syringe.

"No!" Sarah Jane and Jack both shouted in unison.

"Your only other choices are permanent imprisonment, or death. This facility must remain secure."

"No! This is wrong!" Sarah shouted, standing up, smacking her hands on the table. The man with the gun now trained it on her. "Have you no decency? Has the Time War taught you nothing?" She noted the man with the syringe was distracted now. He was instead gazing at her hands. More specifically, her right hand. And the onyx ring on her middle finger.

"That... that is a Time Ring," he stated. His voice somehow sounded different, flat and monotone.

"Time Ring?" His partner questioned, now too looking at the Celtic band. This was not good, and a queasy nervousness attacked her. Sarah Jane had already thought that was what this ring was, but was unsure.

"How did that get by security?"

The first man ignored him, dropping the syringe to the ground.

"You must give it to me, my master requires it." He lurched forward.

"Hey! Get off her!" Jack yelled, but the man with the gun smacked it into his gut, knocking him back.

"Get away from me!" Horrified, Sarah Jane's gut reaction was to curl up her fist. With all her strength, she hit the soldier in the jaw with a hook. She recoiled, pain radiating through her knuckles. He didn't even flinch, but she had not the time to think about that.  
One hand clamped her wrist to the table with inhuman strength, the other gripped her finger. She struggled and twisted as he started to slide it off.

Suddenly, her hand started to vibrate, the ring glowing blue like a lamp. With a blinding flash, the man was sent flying backwards, smashing into the wall with a bang.

He had hit so hard, it made a man sized dent in the wall. At first she thought it was from the impact, but she slowly realized the problem; he was heavier than a normal man. She saw his skin change, splitting into hundreds of small cubes. They rolled into one and other, revealing the true face beneath. She recognized the spoon-shaped lightbulb, and skeletal body. A Spoonhead. Only one man used those.

"What the bloody hell did it do to Sanchez!" The soldier completely panicked. The emotion was short lived. The robot on the floor raised it's hand, a bolt of plasma shooting from it. The man had no time to dodge, smashing into the wall, a cauterized hole in his chest.

A different voice now came from the Spoonhead, a non-chalante, upper-class tone that sent chills down her back. "Come now, Ms. Smith..."

The robot stood, it's skin shifting again. It took on a form she recognized, from so many of her nightmares. An older man, with a hook nose, and cruel eyes. His garb was Victorian nobility, complete with a tall top hat on his head.

"You should know by now, I am everywhere," he finished.

"I..." she tried to speak, but her breath was stolen.

"You!" Jack shouted, his shock retreating already.

"What an astute observation, Capitan," replied The Great Intelligence dryly. Sarah knew this was not really him; just a vessel for him to speak through. Yet still, the creature of her nightmares terrified her.

Then she heard the sounds outside, the yells, followed by gunfire and screams. They were coming from the concourse.

"You see, it is too late for these barbarians. The purge protocol is already in place. There are more of my soldiers here at this point then there are humans. They are now a redundancie. However, it need not be so ugly between you and I. Just give me the Time Ring."

Though she was terrified, one word came out clear.

"No."

"Then I will pluck it from your corpse."

"For someone who calls himself the Great Intelligence, you're pretty damn stupid," Jack suddenly laughed.

Sarah turned, to see him with his hand down the back of his pants. With lighting reflexes, he pulled a glowing pistol out, and fired.

The Great Intelligence's face shattered into a million pieces of glass, reverting to the original Spoonhead, and fell backwards.

"How..." Sarah Jane started, "where.." she wasn't sure she wanted to know that question.

"A lot of clenching," Jack breathed. She had no idea what to say. Obviously Jack saw her expression. "Trust me sweetheart, if you end up on a homicidal game show once or twice, you'll hide guns in the darnest places."

Mercifully, the conversation was cut short, as the room was bathed in red lights. An alarm blared somewhere in the facility, and the ground shook, almost tossing them to off their feet.

"What was that?!" Jack hollered.

"I don't know, but it's not good, we need to find The Doctor!" Sarah replied. Jack grabbed the rifle of the fallen guard, and handed it to her. Sarah hated guns, but she had the feeling she would have to make an exception tonight.


	11. Misery Business

_(Author's note: This is where it all goes south. Also, first person to get all of the references later will get a cookie! My best friend MirricatBlackwood and I got kinda board and one thing led to another. Let's just say we had a good time)_

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." The Doctor awoke, his vision clearing. He was in a small, featureless, interrogation cell. Only a metal table and a pair of chairs (one of which he sat in) decorated it.

Across from him sat Charles, holding Handles up with one hand, mimicking the famous scene from Hamlet with the metal head. He glanced at The Doctor, a vainglorious grin on his face.

"I knew Shakespeare," The Doctor replied groggily, "he'd be appalled."

"What can I say? I'm a better scientist then I am an actor," the head researcher shrugged.

"Scary," The Doctor replied dryly.

He was quickly calculating his options. He was not restrained in any way, a sign of Charles' arrogance. He was obviously very self assured. That was another advantage. He glanced behind him, to see an armored guard. He was holding a shotgun made of a cobalt colored metal. It was fashioned with bright blue tubes running down the barrel. Electric buckshot; if he could get his screwdriver that would blow up right inside the barrel. The perfect distraction.

"What have you done with Sarah Jane and Jack," The Doctor prodded. That would be his next objective, after he escaped.

"Don't worry, they're safe. I'm not a complete monster you know."

"Then let them go, they had no part in the Time War," he knew Sarah Jane and Jack. If they were let go, they would attempt to either break him out or complete the mission where he had failed. He considered either a resounding success.

"I will have to wipe their memories however. Very few are allowed knowledge of this place's existence. Your friends are not among them." His hands curled into angry fists. He needed to get out of here. Now.

"A wee bit perturbed are we?" Charles' smug smile never left his face. The Doctor took a moment, sucking in a deep breath. He was trying, and failing, to hold his hot temper at bay. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

The Doctor began very subdued." Let me ask you something. You supposedly know so much about me, yeah? You know all about my adventures, my part in the war, my companions. You say you even know all of my regenerations."

"So, tell me, how long do you think you can really hold me? I've escaped from prisons meant to hold madmen. I broke into, and back out of, the most secure bank in the universe."

"Calabraxis is..." Charles started.

"Far more secure than this place," The Doctor drowned him out. Some people just did not know how to stay quiet when the smart people were talking. "I mean, really. Look at how easily I got in here! Just some smooth talking and you let me in lickity-split."

"We knew it was you," Charles half laughed, "we would have obliterated you at the door were you not The Doctor. One of the last Time Lords. The only survivor or the Last Great Time War." His expression was one of thoughtful musing. It was irksome.

"Don't romanticize it. There is nothing romantic in death, personal or on a mass scale. Then again, how could I expect someone who is essentially and interstellar dumpster diver to be filled with anything but trash."

"Perhaps... regardless, I am quite curious," Charles now set Handles on the table, and leaned forward, "you must have known we would be watching for you. Which make me wonder... What would make you risk coming here of all places?"

"I was hoping you had my favorite flavor of Gallifreyan ice cream, strawberry froon," The Time Lord returned dryly. Charles snorted derisively.

"Well, if your not going to tell me, maybe your little friend here will." He picked up the patchwork head by it's handles, looking it in the face.

"Wow, going to resort to torturing a severed head. That's pretty low, Chuck." The Scotsman, smirked.

Charles flicked his fingers against the robot's forehead. With a subtle hum, it's single eye lit up bright blue.

"So, tell me little head, why did you all come here, what were you after?"

"There is something here," The head garbled in response.

"Don't tell him anything Handles!" The Doctor shouted, "they can't do anything to you!"

"Correction, my scanners are detecting an anomaly."

Both The Doctor and Charles gave the head a confused look. The hairs on the back of The Doctor's neck stood on end. Something was wrong.

"What do you mean? Explain yourself," ordered Charles.

"I have detected a single model SP8-44C Mobile Connectivity and Infiltration Unit, colloquially known as a 'Spoonhead,' in this room," Handles rattled.

"What?" Exclaimed Charles, holding the head further away from him.

The Doctor's head, on the other hand raced, and it almost felt as though everything slowed. There was a Spoonhead here, as unlikely as it seemed. Handles' sensors were almost infallible, and he was incapable of lying. This was no attempt at distraction.

Charles was no Spoonhead. He was an idiot, but not a robot. His confused, brainless look was too authentic. The Doctor knew he himself was no robot. That only left one person in the room.

He did not need to turn around to see the guards skin changing, but he only had seconds to move. With the agility of a man the quarter of his age, he leapt from his chair, sliding across the table. He managed to spin himself about as he did, slamming both feet into Charles chest.

Both of them crashed to the floor, with a surprised yell from Charles. The Doctor had managed to grab the edge of the table during his descent, flipping it over on end.

The table provided cover from the first explosion of electric shot. The second blew a small bundle of holes just inches from The Doctor's head, scattering into sparks against the wall.

He had to think fast, but his answer was right in front of him. In the commotion, his sonic screwdriver had fallen from Charles' pocket. The Doctor quickly grabbed it, whipping through the settings as he leapt to his feet.

Another blast of shot flew past his left, ricocheting off the wall, ping-ponging dangerously into the fallen table. He depressed the button, his aim at the gun.

With a loud bang, and an explosion of steam and electricity, the gun erupted in the robot's hands. The skeletal android smashed into the wall, stunned, lighting chaining across it's limbs. The Doctor had to think of a follow up, fast.

Suddenly, a blue laser blast hit its chest, melting a messy hole in its wake. The Spoonhead stumbled, the light of its bulb blinking out. It fell down with a crash.

The Doctor turned about to see Charles standing behind him, Jack's Villengard Pistol in his hand.

"What in the name of all that is holy was that?" He breathed, eyes locked on the twitching machine.

"Your organization has been infiltrated Director Lemay," as he said this, the gunfire began outside. Though muffled by the thick walls, it was undeniable.

"You... you did this?" Charles took a step forward.

"When have I ever used killer death robots?" Asked The Doctor rhetorically.

"Then who?"

"They belong to The Great Intelligence. We can discuss that later," he scooped Handles off of the floor. "Handles, scan the building. What percentage of the workforce here are Spoonheads." It took not even a second.

"Sixty eight percent," he replied.

"That's absurd!" Charles defended.

"I told you this place is not as secure as you believed," he hated being right in situations like this.

Charles seemed about to reply, but the room was suddenly drenched in pitch darkness, a quake nearly knocking them to the ground. A deafening alarm sounded next, The Doctor's eyes narrowing.

"What's that for?" It sounded too important to be a security breach, and the quake felt like shelling.

"That's the alert for a ship. A big ship. Friends of yours?" Charles asked sarcastically.

"Jack and Sarah are my only friends right now. What is your defense system for that like?" The Doctor just needed facts.

"All hands to the guns but if half of the force are robots..." his eyes went wide.

"Then no guns. Come on, we need to go." He walked toward the door.

"I can't let you leave," Charles said from behind, "you will respect my authority."

"Then shoot me in the back. But trust me, your already slim chances of getting out of here alive will disappear completely." The Doctor waited a few moments, half waiting for the shot.

"I suggest you run then."

With that single sentence, the pair dashed out into the hall. The signs of combat were evident. A pair of Spoonheads lay on the tile, smoking holes in their chests. Further down were three soldiers, also on the floor. One was slumped against the wall, another curled in a ball near by. The final had a single shot in the back. The Doctor could guess he was the surprise attacks first victim.

As they ran down the hall, he spotted two familiar, welcome faces jogging toward him, lifting his hearts. Jack Harkness was in front. He carried a pistol he had likely smuggled in. The Doctor had been correct in that assumption. Sarah Jane followed closely behind carrying a rifle she had seemingly salvaged.

"Doctor!" Sarah yelled, rushing out ahead of Jack, a wide smile gracing her. The Doctor too ran to meet her. They met in the opening to the concourse, and he swept her into a quick embrace.

"Are you alright? I was worried!" She held onto him like he was a tree in a hurricane.

"This place has been infiltrated by..." The Doctor started.

"Spoonheads, we were attacked already," Jack finished, "I think we might have more to worry about than that."

The pair let go, and looked out into the battle scape that become the main concourse. The Authority's defenses were in full swing. Dozens of metal walls had shot up from the floor, creating a maze of cover for the entrenched soldiers. Some were short, so they had to crouch, while others went to the ceiling.

Most of the turrets had been blown off of the walls but those that had not barked laser fire at anything metal that moved in their vicinity. Lasers and lighting flew every which way. The Spoonheads had the numbers but the soldiers were fighting twice as hard. Screaming orders mixed with yells of terror and pain, drowned beneath the cacophony of war. The bodies of the dead lay in all directions, both man and robot alike.

This would be bad enough, but the sky through the window had been blotted out by a sight that chilled The Doctors blood in his veins. The massive saucer hovered menacingly above, it's yellow spinning lights making his hearts pound in his chest. He and Sarah Jane had outrun that ship only days ago. The Dalek Command Ship. Davros' Eye.

"By the Gods..." he heard Charles gasp. He glanced over at Sarah, her expression horrified, tears forming in her eyes. The Doctor snapped his fingers in front of Charles' eyes, garnering his attention.

"Listen to me, we need to get upstairs," The Doctor's expression was fierce.

"Why the devil..." Charles trailed.

"Davros is after the Epoch Lens. We need to get to it first. That's why we're here." That was a partial lie but it served a purpose. If he believed that the enemy he was looking at was the reason they had arrived, it was extra insensitive.

Even over the gunfire and screams of death, they heard the command transmission, directly from the Dalek vessel. They were always so loud... The Doctor hated them. It was that way so an entire world knew it was about to die, weather they could see the Dalek ships or not. The watery, electric crackle of Davros' voice drowned out everything.

"So, you thought you could hide? Thought you could run through time and I would not find you?" Davros' breathing was heavy, evident even in such a loud address. "You, and this entire world will pay for what you have done to my children Doctor!"

"We're all going to die," Charles murmured. He did not sound afraid as one may think. Rather, it was a simple statement.

"Not if we get to the gun first," Jack countered.

"Fifty sixth floor..." The Doctor jammed his hand in the mans back pocket, to a disgruntled face. He grabbed Sarah Jane's sonic screwdriver, and tossed it to her. She was going to need it.

"Looks like were taking the lift," The Doctor pointed to the nearest one, on their right. Passed all of the fighting; passed the Spoonheads and Authority Soldiers. He gripped Handles in one hand, and his screwdriver in the other, his knuckles turning white. "Stay close. And run!"

Davros' voice became a shrill scream. "Exterminate them! Kill them all!"

They started to run, but The Doctor's eyes were locked on the ship the entire time. He watched one of the yellow lights turn blue, then shade into green.

"Get down!" He yelled, diving floor ward. Sarah Jane landed atop him, with Jack and Charles to their left.

The blue-green ray erupted from the ship in the blink of an eye, filling the room with an eerie light. The Doctor and his companions shielded their heads and eyes, as the building shook and rumbled as though it would collapse. Tiles from the ceiling rained down around them, the oppressive heat and roar of the laser melting everything in it's path.

As it stopped, The Doctor and Sarah stumbled to their feet. Jack and Charles stood next; all eyes took in the devastation of the Daleks. The front entry was gone, burned to ashes, leaving a gaping hole into the concourse. A massive, melted trench had been carved through the middle of the room, leaving nothing but molten rock and ashes in its wake. The beautiful tree centerpiece was cut in half vertically, and was aflame. The entryway in which they had just been standing was obliterated, leaving a ragged hole in the back wall leading to the planet outside.

All who survived the blast stood, though not a single man moved; not Spoonhead, nor Authority Guard. All were fixed on the ship above.

They almost looked like falling stars as they made their descent from the mother ship. Hundred of white lights dropping out of the dark. Some streaked toward the upper floors, others right for the entrance Davros had made. The rapt hypnosis ended when their collective battle cry echoed like gunfire all it's own.

"EXTERMINATE!"

The Doctor started to run, frantic. For all he knew, the lifts didn't work but they had to try. Sarah kept just behind him. Her gun was gone now, lost to the flames, but she had her screwdriver.

Some flew through at high speeds, their shots dropping from the sky like bombs. Others hovered methodically in through the door. Regardless, they all looked the same; metal shaker shaped forms, topped with a single eye stalk. Their guns and plungers seemed to twitch with malevolent glee, as they began to fire.

Screams of death and extermination filled the air, each Dalek zap showing the technicolor skeleton of their victims as they fell dead. The men and robots began returning fire at the death machines. At first it appeared the enemies had put their combat aside, but the original confrontation was not over. Far from it. Spoonhead and Man turned on one and other in the midst of the combat, lasers shooting around the room in a hornets nest of slaughter.

One Dalek flew just overhead, it's gun aimed at them. Jack was first however, his red laser shot clipping it's eyestalk before it dropped it's deadly cargo. It spiraled sideways, smashing into the wall in a great ball of flame and a terrible scream only a Dalek could make. The Doctor caught sight of a Spoonhead, turning to fire upon them, its gun trained on Sarah's flank. The Doctor was faster, his sonic tool blowing its gun apart in its hands.

Charles ducked as a Dalek ray flew over head, but a pair of soldiers had it in hand. Both men pounded laser shots into it's eye stalk, the combined might of two guns blowing it's head apart in shrapnel laced glory. They only needed to make it a few more feet.  
The Doctor outstretched his screwdriver as they ran, aiming it at the elevator. He couldn't hear the warble, but he saw the light click on.

She watched Sarah Jane aim at a second Spoonhead attacker, it's laser gun misfiring. The skeletal robot tossed it to the ground, aiming with its wrist gun instead. It was about to fire, when a Dalek blast took off its legs with a shot of hot sparks.

Its rocket fired regardless, spiraling wide, between Jack and Charles. It exploded, instead, into a third robot no one had seen, blowing it apart.

The elevator doors opened as the group reached them, and they piled in, laser shot peppering the entrance as the doors closed. Everyone, The Doctor included, was breathing heavily when Sarah pressed the button for floor fifty-six. With an injured sounding whine, the lift jerked and started its ascension.

The Doctor shut his eyes, breathing deeply. How did Davros find them? Had he somehow tracked them? Did someone tip him off? He couldn't say. It was up there with the current Spoonhead mystery.

He had barely had time to consider how or why there were so many Spoonheads here. The Great Intelligence always made moves logically. Everything had a purpose. So what was his game here. Why the Time War Containment Authority? Was it about the Time Lords and their technology. Was he looking for something specific? Or someone? What if, whatever his plan was, hinged on some post Time War technology. Or it could just be that this is a secret sect, and he was a collector of knowledge and secrets. He slowed his head; all he was doing was jumping to conclusions. There had to be a reason. If he managed to escape here with his life, and Morbius did not succeed in erasing it, would endeavor find out what.

He watched the screen displaying the floor numbers, staying quiet. He was attempting, and failing, to ignore the screams and gunfire they heard with each passing floor.

Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four.

Just as they reached that point, the ear-shattering roar of the Dalek lasor began again. The entire building shook, and they felt the elevator wobble and jerk in it's shaft. They stumbled, grabbing onto each other and the railings, before the lift stuttered to a halt.

The blasting subsided, and Jack prodded the buttons to no avail.  
"I think we're stuck," Jack announced.

"Thank you Capitan Obvious," snarked The Doctor. Sarah's was already using her screwdriver on the panel, with no results.

"We're going to have to go on foot," The Doctor said. What was it with elevators never working? He ran his screwdriver along the door seem, and they popped open.

They were not quite lined up with the door above, so there was a gap of about four feet to climb through. The opposite door was still shut, but Sarah Jane quickly rectified that. She reached up, placing her glowing screwdriver on doors. With a blue glow and a low whine, the doors crept open.

Immediately, they were assailed by the smell of smoke and fire. Thin wisps of smog entered through the doors, but there was no sound beyond.

Jack went first, scurrying up through the tight space, onto the next floor. He put his hand down, The Doctor grabbing it. With a tug, Jack pulled him up, and he too, ducked through the opening, into the hall.

The source of the smoke was immediately obvious. A pair of Daleks a ways down the hall. Both were destroyed, and one was set ablaze. Littering the floor were the remains of Spoonheads in various states of disrepair, and the corpses of guards.

The hall itself was unremarkable. The walls were lined with door after door, each with a number and a lock. These were the containment vaults. He couldn't help but wonder what each held. Was it technology from his own world? Or something cooked up by Daleks, or Cyclors?

The hall tuned right both ahead and behind. This building was laid out exactly as he had expected; an uncreative square. That was good though. It would make it easy to navigate. They just had to find the stairs.

The Doctor was just about to put his hand down into to the lift, when it groaned and shifted.

"Sarah, hurry!" The Doctor hollered but it was far to late. With a heavy crack, the mag-rails holding the elevator in place disengaged. The lift whooshed out of sight, Sarah Jane's ear piercing shriek echoing down the shaft. A heart sinking racket followed, as the lift collided with the walls, before finally coming to a crashing halt below.

The Doctor stared down the shaft, into the blackness. He was looking for some sign that she had survived. As cold as it was, Charles was quite secondary here. But Sarah... Had his worst fears had just been realized? For all he knew she was at the bottom of that shaft with a broken neck or the elevator had collapsed on top of her.

"Doctor..." Jack started, laying his had on his shoulder. The Scotsman shrugged it off.

"We need to get down there and find her," his voice was intense, his eyes cold, "she could be hurt or in danger." He started walking down the hall, toward the line of windows. He knew not where, but there had to be stairs somewhere. Another explosion ruptured somewhere down below, and he hurried even more.

"Doctor! Doctor wait," Jack's steps were hurried. Both of his hands grabbed the back of his shoulders, roughly spinning him about.

He was looking Jack in the face now, his expression equally pained. Yet still, his eyes were more determined.

"We don't have time. We need to get to that gun part," he shook him slightly, probably trying to force some sense into him.  
"What do you expect me to do Jack?" The Doctor angrily countered, "leave her down there? For the Daleks or the Spoonheads to find?"

"Listen to me! We..." but an unmistakable, grinding, worp interrupted them both. It was a TARDIS, but it did not sound like his own. It sounded diseased somehow, tainted. However, it was ear-splittingly loud, and coming from outside.

Hesitantly, he walked toward the windows, gripping his sonic screwdriver all the harder. He set his jaw, and took a deep breath. He had hoped he had beaten him here by a long shot. How could he have possibly figured out where the second piece was.

He did not need to see the monolithic TARDIS to know Morbius had indeed arrived. Now, however, his TARDIS had changed size. It was far bigger, nearly equaling the Time War Containment Authority itself, hovering off the ground above a conflagration of green fire. The towering, triumphant, statue in the front seemed to gloat down at him. He could see the Gallifreyan symbols clearly, declarations of his most terrible deeds. The genocide of Red Larch Seven. The burning of Jurika. The murder of the eight High Kings of Walpurgus. The massacre of the Sisters of Karn. The complete annihilation of Moondorf. The liberation of Darkbeast Paarl. Subjugator of Gothmog. Grand escape from Cremitoria. All were there and more. Every tragedy he had ever caused. It was a monument to misery.

He watched as a massive ramp extended from the middle of the statue. The Doctor felt the building shutter as the ramp smashed through the wall somewhere below.

The Ravaged came marching from within by the score. He couldn't make all of them out, but it seemed as though some may not have been his built slaves. He was re-acquiring his followers, probably rebuilding his cult. They were marching in formation like a conquering army, with Morbius at their lead.

He was fully clothed now, wearing a long, grey, buttoned coat comfortable in the time of the American Revolution. A thick belt crossed his chest, holding what appeared to be smaller weapons or tools. He wore no shirt beneath, his scars still visible. He held his handgun in his hand, as he led his small army into the building.

The Doctor turned to Jack, whose flabbergasted expression had not faded. He glanced at The Doctor, then back at Morbius' TARDIS.  
"Jack we..." but the immortal held up his hand.

"Get to the gun, Doctor. I'll get to Sarah Jane," he ordered.

"Don't you let her die, Jack," The Doctor replied. She couldn't die. Not like this.

"Don't you die. I think The Corsair will kill me if you do." The Doctor furrowed his brow for a moment, but did not have time to ask him. Jack rushed around the corner, at full speed. If there was anyone, other than himself that he could trust to find Sarah, it was Jack.

The Doctor turned about, heading in the opposite direction. He would reach that gun before Morbius. He had no other choice.


	12. The Mechromancer

_(Author's Note: I do not own Wonderwall, as performed by Oasis. I do, however, get the feels when I hear it. Ah I miss the 90s_ )

Sarah Jane couldn't help but scream as the hand of her old friend, The Doctor, disappeared from view and the elevator hurtled down the shaft. The feeling of out-of- control inertia was fear inducing. It felt like she and Charles were falling at million miles an hour the first time it bounced against the wall.

The impact threw the pair to the floor as the lift continued its manic descent, colliding with the opposite side next. She curled up as much as she could, hoping it would lessen the blow when they finally hit the bottom floor.

It quaked again as it hit the shaft, before smashing to a stop. Everything was quiet now, but the creaking of the lift. Sarah laid there for a few moments, afraid it would fall. It didn't feel as though they had reached the bottom. It felt more like they were stuck on something. She finally sat up, glancing over at Charles.

He was beginning to stand up, one hand on his head. She could already see a big bruise forming around his left eye. She heard him utter a curse under his breath, before turning to her.

"Are you alright?" He breathed, holding out his hand to help her up. She grabbed it and stood. Pain radiated up her back and across her ribs. She was getting too old for this kind of thing.

"I think so, you look like you're going to have a bugger of a black eye," she pointed. He picked up her sonic screwdriver from the floor, looking out through the open doors.

Her assumption had been correct. The lift was tilted backwards, and jammed in the shaft. It wasn't secure in any sense, but it may hold long enough for them to get out. They had gotten lucky in one other regard.

They had halfway lined up with one of the doors, though she didn't know which floor it was. Outside she could hear the gunfire and the yells, both Dalek and human. This building was probably crawling with Daleks now, killing everything in sight.

"I'll go first, make sure it's safe," Charles whispered.

"There isn't another direction to go if it isn't, but the sentiment is appreciated," she nodded, flashing him an unsure smile. Daleks; she couldn't believe it.

How had they found them? She and The Doctor had evaded the Daleks perfectly. Had they tracked them somehow? She hadn't expected to run afoul of Davros so quickly.

She took a deep breath as she pointed her screwdriver at the door. The Daleks always scared her. How could they not? They didn't care about decency or mercy. Life meant nothing to them. They were physical embodiments of hate and rage. To them, if it wasn't a Dalek, it needed to die. Men, women, children, animals; it didn't matter. Hate over ruled everything.

She had fought them many times alongside The Doctor. She had even been present for their birth, by their creator, Davros. Despite her history, that fear of something so evil had never faded. How could it? It was incomprehensible and inhuman.

But bravery was not the absence of fear. Rather, it was doing the necessary, in spite of it. As she had always done. She had to. If The Doctor failed, it would be her that would need to assemble the Epoch Lens. She would need to stop Morbius.

The door slid open, the sounds of laser fire, loud and clear. Charles scampered up through the door opening, glancing quickly down the hall both ways, before turning around. He leaned down through the door, holding out his hands.

"Hurry, before that thing turns around," he whispered. Sarah did just that, grapping his hands, and he helped pull her up. Just as she ducked through the opening she heard it. The electric, bone chilling scream.

"EXTERMINATE!"

Charles pulled her the rest of the way through as the blue- green lasers zapped around them.

"Go, go!" he shoved her ahead of him, and they ran from the Dalek. She saw Charles pull out Jack's confiscated Villengard Special. She heard him return fire, the pinging sound of the Dalek's shields deflecting the lasers.

A pair of Dalek bolts flew over her shoulder, shattering the window ahead, as she skidded around the corner.

"EXTERMNAAAAAHH" The Dalek yelled, engulfed in a final explosion, it's last words filled with hate. She however was no longer focused on that, instead finding more danger around the corner. Charles stopped beside her, his mouth hanging open.

She almost did not believe her eyes, but almost nothing surprised her today. A pair of TWCA soldiers lay on the ground, one hit by smoking laser fire, the other with a knife sticking from his back. Before them, stood five figures.

Four were obviously Morbius' Ravaged, being made of patchwork body parts. She noted these were mostly humans, though she spotted a few scaled limbs or crab hands among them. The fifth wore some sort of robe, with a circular Gallifreyan symbol on the front. His face was painted in a pattern resembling Morbius' scars. These were Morbius' men.

She did not know when Morbius had come. Perhaps he had only sent his followers. If he himself was among his men, she needed to reach The Doctor, now. He was in grave danger.

But they needed to escape the current threat first. The cloaked man turned to them with a mad grin, pointing a sword at them.

"For the glory of Morbius!" He yelled. His deference was cut short by a sizzling shot from Charles cutting him down. Sarah grabbed his shoulder, tugging him back toward the defeated Dalek.

"Friends of yours?" Charles shouted, stumbling into a run.

"You could call them that," Sarah replied sarcastically.

The pair ran, the screaming masses behind them. A pair of blasts came from behind, buckshot scattering in front of them, followed by a pair of green lasers.

Sarah Jane quickly glanced over her shoulder, and aimed her screwdriver at the laser gun. With a whining warble she disabled his gun, his trigger doing nothing. Charles too, took a shot over his shoulder, tripping up a hammer-wielding man. The Ravaged with the shotgun was in the midst of reloading, while one of his friends gained on them, axe in hand.

Suddenly, two Daleks rolled from around the corner up ahead, their glowing eye stalks turning to find them. Their bodies swiveled around, guns twitching.

"EXTERMINATE!" both screamed, their death lasers firing right at them. Charles grabbed Sarah's arm, pulling her aside. She noted he had a card in his hand as they rush toward one of the vault doors. The reader on the side lit up green as he approached, the door sliding open. The pair ducked inside, the Dalek fire no longer on them, instead aimed at Morbius' men.

She took a moment to take in the room. It was a simple, metal room with a singular table in the center. On the table was a single, rectangular, metal box. It had a card reader on the front, and a number tag glued to the side.

The Ravaged outside charged the Daleks.

"Die, Dalek scum," she heard one of the Ravaged slur. Just as he said this, he was hit by one of their lasers. With a zap, his form was illuminated, revealing his entire skeleton beneath the skin for a moment. He flopped to the ground lifeless. The others disappeared from view to combat the worse threat.

"Exterminate the sub-humans!" She heard one of the Daleks shout.

"Sub-humans will be destroyed," it's partner answered.

Charles jogged up toward the locked box, quickly sliding his card in the reader.

"This is vault number... three forty-six... so this should be..." he opened the lid, revealing a metal rod, strapped down inside the case. It's only noteworthy future was a small switch on the side. He undid the straps, and pulled it from the box.

"What is that?" Sarah Jane asked, the laser fire had stopped outside, and she could hear the Daleks moving closer.

"This is a Time Lord weapon, meant to kill Daleks in melee combat." She saw him thumb the switch. Before her eyes, metal plates popped out of the end, and connected one into the other, until it created a thick ball. It was a mace. How could that hope to kill a Dalek? Charles flipped Jack's pistol over, and she tentatively took it.

"It wasn't very popular with them, as they don't like to get their hands dirty but..." he twirled it around a few times, before scraping it along the floor like an enormous match. Just as he did, the head lit up bright orange, as though on fire, and it crackled with lightning of the same shade.

"It's more effective than it looks." As he finished, the first Dalek rolled into view, turning to face them. Charles rushed it with a yell, holding his glowing mace high.

Neither the Dalek nor Sarah had a chance to fire a shot as he smashed the weapon down on top of its head. With a metallic crash and a shower of sparks, the Dalek screamed, attempting to roll backwards. Charles was relentless, smashing its eye stalk from its head before taking its from its body. One, finial, savage swing tore a gaping, melted, swath through its torso. It collapsed in on itself, staying still.

Charles was already on the move again, diving to the floor beneath a stream of Dalek lasers. Sarah Jane exited the room, aiming the Villengard Special at the assaulting Dalek.

She may have hated guns, but Sarah was a most excellent shot, both blue lasers hitting its eye stalk. The first stunned it, the second blowing its head into metal chunks.

Charles stood, adjusting his glasses with a sigh of relief.

"Thanks for that," he nodded. He tapped his mace against the floor, powering it down.

"Gladly. We should hurry to the fifty-sixth floor." She was not about to forget about The Doctor just because of the fighting, nor their mission if he had fallen.

"We're on twenty-seven. We either risk another elevator ride, or we can take the stairs up to thirty-five," he answered quickly,

"What's on thirty-five?" They did not have time to waste, not if Morbius was here already.

"Something that will get us there faster," she noted that crazed grin she recognized on The Doctor. Deep down, Charles was enjoying this; the rush, the danger, the adrenaline.

"Then let's go!" She ran behind Charles, ever alert. There could be Daleks or Spoonheads around any corner. She never knew if, around the next bend, she would find a smiling, scared Morbius.

He ran to a door at the south corner, marked 'Employees Only' his card opening it automatically. The pair found themselves in a massive, square, stairwell. It spiraled above and below them seemingly eternally. It was obvious that it spanned the entire height of the building. She nodded to him, and they started their ascension.

It wasn't long before they heard the roar of Davros' Eye again. Both bracing themselves, gripping the railings tightly, though it did no good.

It hit a floor beneath them, teal light blasting though the door in a flaming ball. Charles tumbled backwards, losing his grip flailing into her with an inadvertent yell. Both painful flopped down the steps. Both landed in a heap on the landing above the laser.

The heat and sound was unbearable; it was like a deafening oven. Sarah quickly scrambled to her feet, the metal beneath them burning her hands a shiny red. Not thinking, she grabbed Charles by the shoulders and yanked him to his feet. The pair immediately started on the move.

The laser finally stopped, and she hazarded a look down. This time it had not blown the wall open, but rather left a black scorch mark behind. The stairs where it had hit directly were gone, leaving the metal holding them melted and warped.

They passed four floors, and Sarah Janes legs were already aching. She could see Charles' forehead was dripping with sweat. It was partially that the laser had significantly raised the temperature of the stairs, but also just exhaustion. She could hear him puffing out his breaths, and she wasn't much better.

"Come on..." he wheezed, "we need to get there. Just a few... more ... floors." She shook her head. Why was he suddenly in such a hurry? Something did not feel right about this.

"I'm not even sure why you're helping us. An hour ago, you were about to fry my brain," she groused. Charles stopped ahead, and spun around. His blue eyes were regretful but showed a hard edge of conviction in them.

"It was not personal, believe me." Charles defended.

"It was to me," she glared.

"Do you know why I started this? Exactly what you're looking at, that's why. This tower, right now, looks exactly like the Time War. I was on Mechronomus when the Time War broke out. I saw it, full force. And there were battles worse than that, and worse than this. I never wanted anyone to suffer like that again. Everything in this vault causes nothing but suffering."

She understood where he was coming from. She could see it in his eyes. He had lost everything because of a war between two all-powerful races. She had truthfully thought he was just a scientist playing with big boy toys for bigger wars.

"I didn't know you were a survivor..." she trailed.

"Not a survivor, a participant." He suddenly gripped his wrist, and twisted. With a hiss of compressed air, and a click, she watched as he slipped the skin back along his forearm, revealing a rust shaded, bone-like rod. It was coated in veins and tendons however, quite unlike anything she had ever seen. What was he? Some kind of android?

"I fought alongside my Mechromancer brothers as the combined army of Daleks and Ogrons drenched my world in flame." She was speechless. The Doctor was the only person she had ever met that walked away from the Time War. "The Doctor is not the only one who lost his world."

"I would rather die than let Davros get anything as powerful as the Epoch Lens. I vowed I would never let what happen to me happen to anyone else because of the discarded refuse of the past." She did not know why he believed Davros was after the Epoch Lens. Perhaps The Doctor had told him that? Was that why he was throwing himself carelessly into combat?

She was not about to correct him. Perhaps perpetuating the lie was wrong, but they needed that gun piece. She hated any kind of dishonesty like that but it was necessary.

One question rose to her mind.

"If you are a Time War soldier, what right do you have to imprison The Doctor?" He snorted in return.

"Why do you think I never leave?"

With a bang, the door on the landing below them smashed open. Sarah pointed the Villengard Special as a pair of Spoonheads charged out. One appeared normal, the other shown bright silver. It looked like the one she had seen with The Doctor in Killcrest Manor.

She fired the pistol, knocking the silver figure down. Its friend returned fire, its wrist blaster scorching just to her left. Charles rushed down the stairs, scraping his weapon along the wall, igniting it. Sarah Jane fired down past Charles, her two shots wide.

He was right on the mark however, his arcing swing smashing the Spoonhead's glass face easily. The Spoonhead that she had knocked down was not done however. Its bulb lit bright yellow, a thin, pale laser firing from it. Charles had neither the time nor the space to move, and it lanced through his left shoulder.

With a pained grunt, he wrecked his vengeance on the skeletal android, knocking its head clean off its shoulders. He whipped around as another ran through the door, this one's right hand a thick drill instead of a clamp. In vain it raised its arms to stop Charles' heavy blow, but the weapon cleaved through the feeble metal. A pair of electric shots came from through the door, Charles ducking back.

"Go! Just go! I'll hold them off!" He yelled. He pulled his keycard from his pocket and tossed it up the steps. She quickly caught it, his eyes determined, expression grim. "You get that gun. Don't let Davros, or the Spoonheads, or anyone else get it!" His uppercut smashed the next Spoonhead in line.

She hesitated. She didn't want to leave him behind. He was more noble than she had once thought, and although flawed his motivations were all for the betterment of the universe.

But she had a duty to The Doctor. To the galaxy. Charles was right. Morbius had to be stopped. He looked back, glaring at her, and she nodded. She knew what she needed to do. She looked back one last time as he disappeared into the hall, the sounds of battle echoing into the stairs.

She ran up the steps as fast as she could, trying not to think about Charles. That he was probably dead. That he had probably died to save her. That he had sacrificed himself because he falsely believed Davros was after the gun.

"EXTERMINATE!" The scream echoed through the stairs, and she saw the Dalek on the landing just above. There was no going that way. Its gun aimed at her and she veered off into the adjoining hallway. A pair of Dalek shots hit the floor behind her as she skittered through the doorway, tripping over the body of a derelict Spoonhead.

She fell painfully on her stomach, but immediately started to clamber to her feet. But as she finally looked up, her stomach dropped. A chill like no other rolled through her.

Two Daleks sat in front of her, their guns trained on her. This pair were larger than the others she had seen, and painted bright red, with gold trimmings. Dalek Primes; the deadliest of all the Daleks. She had only encountered these a handful of times. It was never, ever a good omen.

"We have the companion!" One's shrill voice yelled.

"Capture her for Davros. She will be brought before him!" One with a deeper electric tone returned.

Sarah Jane was terrified. All she had was Jack's gun; certainly not enough to take down a pair of Primes. She was not going to be taken prisoner by the Daleks. She had been taken prisoner before, and tortured by Davros himself. Had to find a way out of this...

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"You have no alternative! You will obey the Daleks!" The deep voiced one to the left commanded.

She thought about running, but when she looked behind her, she saw the silver Dalek from the stairs was now blocking that direction. She was trapped.

The of the Primes began rolling forward, and she started to back up. She could hear the Dalek behind coming closer.

"Do not resist!" It shouted. She was planning to do just that. They would have to drag her onto that ship. Or they would have to kill her.

But the Daleks stopped, as did she, when the music began. It was loud and clear; at first she wasn't sure that she was actually hearing it.

" _Backbeat, the word was on the street, that the fire in your heart is out."_

 _"I'm sure you've heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt_ "

She recognized the tune and the lyrics; Wonderwall by Oasis. Not one of her favorite songs but it had been popular a few decades before. At first, she couldn't believe she was hearing it. But it was very obvious it was real; the Dalek's heads were on a swivel, confused.

 _"I don't believe that anybody, feels the way I do about you now."_

 _"And all the roads we have to walk are winding,"_

 _"And all the lights that lead us there are blinding,"_

"What is this sound!" The high voiced prime yelled.

 _"There are many things that I, would like to say to you but I don't know how_."

"EXPLAIN! EXPLAIN! Its partner demanded

 _"Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me."_

 _"And after all,"_

"Explain or be exterminated!" The one behind her screeched

 _"You're my Wonderwall_."

Sarah Jane only barely saw the shimmer of light. The slight distortion in the air behind the pair of Primes. Just as she noticed it, figure walked out from it, seemingly appearing from thin air as the music suddenly stopped.

She recognized the young, pretty, redhead. Her impossibly curly hair and luminescent eyes were exactly the same as they had been when she had last seen this woman. Unlike that night, in the woods outside Wardwall, her cloths were far more modern.

Gone was the tattered robe and hood. They were replaced by a formal, buttoned shirt and a kilt. Her thick boots were the final piece, completing the entire, punk, ensemble.

Her wooden staff had been replaced as well, by a glowing laser gun. The barrel was alight with red like fire.

"Explain Wonderwall? You guys must be joking!" She smirked. With a zap, her gun fired, hitting the red Prime in front of Sarah Jane in the back of the head. It exploded into flames, metal shrapnel flying everywhere.

Sarah Jane covered her face as a second shot flew to her right, hitting the silver Dalek behind her. The shot went right down its eyestalk. The devastating laser blew a hole out of its back, killing it instantly.

The other Prime's torso spun around, but she was faster. Her first shot hit its body, knocking out its shields. The second blew a hole where its gun had been. The third bored a hole in its 'chest', destroying it with a high-pitched whine.

She looked over her handiwork, resting her gun against her shoulder. Her savior grinned widely, and strutting toward her. When she spoke, gone was her archaic dialect from the Puritan times

"Hello Sarah Jane, long time, no see!"

* * *

Jack ducked beneath the heavy, hammer swing of the Viking Ravaged in front of him. Jack grabbed it around the waist, hefting it over his shoulder. With a yell of sheer power, he shoulder-smashed it into the wall.

He quickly dropped it, smashing his laser gun into the face of its insectoid friend. It raised its katana, but Jack was faster on the draw, sending a sizzling shot through its chest.

He had only made it down four floors before the stairs below were burned to cinders by Davros' Eye. He had to alter course and find the other staircase, and thus he exited into the hall.

And ran straight into The Ravaged. Morbius' men were all on a deadline run to the top floors of the building, where the Epoch Lens part was being held. He knew they had to be taking terrible losses but he had brought a small army. There were more than enough of them to flood this place.

Another pair, one a human with the squid like head of an Ood and another mismatched Silurian in a Nazi uniform, came directly at him.

The Silurian was first, swinging a baseball bat with all the strength its human torso could muster. Jack managed to dodge aside, but the Oods wildly flailing wrench clipped his hand, sending his gun flying.

He wasn't to be outdone so easily, his quick hands striking the Ood twice in the stomach, and his right hook followed into its mushy face. He lept back as another arcing swing came from the Nazi.

Instead of hitting Jack, it hit the Ood square in the forehead, felling it. Whether dead or unconscious Jack couldn't tell, as none of them breathed, but he planned to capitalize on the opportunity. He came at the Silurian with a thick hook.

The Ravaged was faster, his uppercut with the bat hitting him square in the jaw. Jack's legs turned to rubber beneath him, his vision swirling. He fell backwards, hitting the floor hard.

His vision cleared just in time to see the wooden bat coming at his face. Everything went black.

Jack sucked in a sharp breath as his heart started beating again. He rolled over, remembering where he was. He had half hoped the TWCA had been a terrible nightmare. That Morbius and The Daleks had been a product of too much wine.

He flipped over onto his stomach, and looked down the hall. The bat-wielding Silurian Ravaged was walking toward the stairs. The Ood was at his left, still laying on the floor. As was his gun.

He scraped it up into his hand, and aimed it at the Ravaged's back. With a zap, it stood straight, then dropped. Jack grunted to his feet, his head and chest still aching from his most recent death.

Then he heard the cold, deep laugh behind him. He knew who the cruel chuckle belonged. Jack turned around.

There stood Morbius, a wide, mad, smile spread across his face. The glee in his orange eyes made Jack sick. His new revolutionary coat was smeared with red already, and he could see burn marks in it. He carried his green, glowing pistol in his hand, ready for a fight.

Jack took note of his scars however. They were larger now. The one on his face was bleeding down into his cheeks, resembling tears now. The one on his chest was swirling down into his abdomen as well. Jack now wondered... what was happening to him? And... was it killing him?

"My, my, we really are hard to kill, aren't we?" His smile was smug, "I would love to experiment on your regenerative capabilities. What won't you come back from?"

Jack went to fire his gun, not wanting to miss the opportunity to end the Morbius threat for good. But the Time Lord was faster, his own green blast hitting Jack's gun. Jack dropped it with a curse, the weapon exploding into a hundred pieces. The Corsair had given him that gun...

His hand was filled with burning, stinging pain, but he balled up his fists anyway. His fingers were shiny with red burns. It would heal quickly. He made a trip through a Dalek furnace once; this was nothing.

"Much better," Morbius grinned, "what do you say we settle this like Gentlemen?" Jack raised his hands up, more than ready.

"There isn't going to be anything gentle about it," Jack replied, to an even more deranged grin from Morbius. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed the fight. The blood. The death.

Then Jack saw them roll around the corner, behind Morbius. The pair of silver Daleks turned their eye stalks toward them. Jack barely saw it, as he had already turned and was starting to run.

"Come back here and fight me you coward," Morbius shouted angrily behind him, but his voice was drowned.

"Exterminate the Time Lord," one Dalek commanded.

"Capture The Doctor's companion!" The other answered.

And they began shooting. Teal extermination beams fired behind him, as he ran for the stairs. Jack could hear Morbius' heavy footfalls behind him. Evidently it wasn't cowardice if HE ran.

He heard Morbius return fire, throwing insults and slurs at the pursuing Daleks. Jack did not look back, trying to think about what his next move was. He needed to get down to Sarah Jane, but the stairs ahead were destroyed. Yet, here was Morbius, intent on going up. Who was he to protect? The Doctor, or Sarah Jane?

A Dalek blast came dangerously close to him as he reached the stairwell. The stairs going down were destroyed. He could only go up. That or he would need to go past Morbius and somehow get by the Daleks. He couldn't get captured, not again. There would be no Corsair to break him out as there was last time. He knew that.

Suddenly he felt strong hands grab his neck and back, lifting him forward. He struggled and he started going over the rails, his eyes locked on the black abyss beneath him.

"Sorry, Jackie, but I'm sure you'll be alright." He tried to kick, but Morbius had a hold of his legs. Over the railing Jack went, twirling and spiraling down into the black. He flew past landing after landing, the terminal weightlessness horrific. He watched as the floor rose up to meet him. He knew one thing just before he hit; it was only up from here.


	13. Masters of War

Anger. That was what The Doctor felt. That was what boiled inside of him. It felt like there was a volcano inside his chest, set to erupt at a moments notice. He pointed his sonic screwdriver at the Dalek in front of him. With a warble, the metal monstrosity screamed, it's optics temporarily blinded. The old Time Lord continued to run, straight past it, careful not to drop Handles on the floor. He did not have the time to waste to pick him up if he did.

He was always angry when the Daleks arrived. He promised himself each and every time he wouldn't be, that he would stay calm. That he wouldn't be filled with bile and rage. That he wouldn't curse them and the planet Skaro. That he wouldn't hate them, for everything they had done. For what they exemplified. For their very presence here. Hate made him just like them.

Yet still, when he watched them kill, watched them senselessly exterminate everything in their path, just for being non-Dalek... he slipped into it like an old glove. He told himself he hated what they did. What they were capable of. That was a lie. He hated them. And Davros.

He dodged around the corner as the Dalek regained its sight. He heard it's battle cry, a word he had grown to loath and fear. He planned to be gone by the time it could fire upon him. For all their technology and advancement over the years, they were still as slow as molasses.

The hall ahead was littered with the dead. Even if they were not present, the walls alone told him a great battle had occurred here. They were scorched nearly black. The TWCA soldiers lay in twisted piles on the ground. Some were still smoking from laser fire, while others pulsed and jerked with the remnants of Spoonhead electricity.

The Great Intelligence's foot-soldiers were present along side them. Most were blown to pieces, their skeletal limbs scattered along the floor. Daggers of glass lay along the tiles, courtesy of their shattered faces. He even noted one had been killed so suddenly, it had only half-transformed, it's lower body still human, beneath a metal ribcage.

Numerous Ravaged were among the dead. It was difficult to tell just how mangled they were, as they had been in poor shape to begin with. They had been in no way equipped for any fight. Most of them had crude melee weapons or simplistic fire arms. For them, it had been a complete slaughter. They were barely a match for the TWCA if they got the jump on them.

When it came to the Daleks, fighting them was suicide. It wasn't as though Morbius cared. These creatures were just cannon fodder to him. He didn't care that most of them had once been people or that they were throwing themselves into a fight they had no hope of winning. He had already taken their lives from them. They were just a means to an end.

A pair of Daleks sat with the corpses, smoking and sparking. They had been killed, with the blinded one down the hall being the only survivor of the violent affair.

The violence, the death... the smell of the fire and the sounds of the screams... it felt like he was right back there. Right back in the Time War. Back in Arcadia, or Lujhimene. Everyone was killing and being killed... just like back then.

He shook his head as his hands began to shake. He needed to stay on task, and get up one more floor. He had been forced to zig-zag around the fighting, or when the stairs had been destroyed, bouncing through the floors to opposite stairwells.

This was taking longer than he would like. He didn't know how far Morbius was behind him. He had to assume that he was right on his tail. Morbius was insane, there was no doubt about that. However, he was more focused on regaining the future he thought he deserved. A future where he had never been stopped all those years ago on Karn. A future with no Doctor.

The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, pointing at the door to the stairs. He ran it along the seams, and with a click, the light on it turned green.

The laser outside let loose it's baleful roar, the floor beneath his feet shaking. Davros had done the same thing to the city of Londo during the war. He used his ship to burn it to ashes after it refused to bend to his will. He was doing it again. It was all happening again.

Except this time, Sarah Jane was here. He had willingly put her in danger once again. For all he knew she was dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft. Or she had been killed by Spoonheads or The Great Intelligence. Or Morbius had finally found her and finished the job. They filled him with guilt and revulsion.

He should have left her behind. Just so she was safe.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Sarah Jane was no ordinary woman. She was smart, cunning and strong. She was capable of things other companions he had been with in the past were not. She was Sarah Jane. She had protected the Earth by herself and defeated the Trickster. He needed to have the faith in her that she deserved.

That was always the problem with having the duty of care. One worried, no matter what they knew the person to be capable of. He tried not to let fretting cloud his mind. She had Jack too. The un-killable Jack Harkness.

The Doctor bounded up the steps, the sounds of battle echoing from far below and up above. He could hear the combat on the other side of the door in front of him too. He took a breath. He knew not what was between him and the piece of the Epoch Lens, but he would need to go through it. And figure out exactly which vault it was located in. He was kicking himself now for not questioning Charles further.

"Will you be able to tell me which vault has the gun part in it, Handles," The Doctor murmured to the head.

"My sensors show nothing inside of the vaults. Something is blocking them, or the vaults are empty," the head gargled, its only eye lighting up for a moment.

"Well, they aren't empty," The Doctor murmured under his breath.

"There is only a two, point, eight, six, seven percent chance that they are." Handles agreed.

He opened the door, and stepped into the next hall. Floor fifty-six. His target was here, somewhere.

On what appeared to be the apex of the combat. This hall was choking with smoke, and stank of flames. The sounds were ear-splitting: gunfire roaring like a symphony of death. The guttural yells of the mutant ravaged mixed with the calm, electronic voices of the Spoonheads.

No Daleks were present, but these two factions were more than enough. At the far end of the hall, the Spoonheads were fighting in mass. This hall's defenses had been triggered, something that had become a rarity on most of the lower floors. The Doctor guessed the soldiers had either not had the time to trigger them, or the robots had disabled them.

Here however, had become a maze of metal walls that had sprung from the floor. As with those downstairs, some were the size of men, while others were lower. Spoonheads crouched or covered, firing in his direction.

Not at him, rather the contingency of Ravaged ahead of him. It was obvious Morbius had sent his best soldiers here. Almost all of them were wearing some form of armor, and carried laser weapons. He noted they were all at least partly created of the "stronger" species; Juudon, Ice Warriors, Ogrons and Sontarans were the most common. Other men, in dark cloaks were present as well. They were part of his cult, their faces painted to appear like his scars. The Doctor assumed they were either new devotees, or Morbius had traveled across time to find what few worshipers of his remained. Either way, they were morons, one and all.

They were making slow progress, moving ever closer to the Spoonheads, but the robots had the numbers. They Ravaged may have been killing two robots for every one of their own, but there were more to fill the space. Morbius' head-first tactic was failing him.

The Doctor couldn't help but wonder, how did Morbius even know were to send his strongest men? It couldn't be chance or coincidence. How was it possible that he knew where the Epoch Lens was, when even The Doctor, the man who hid it, did not? Someone was helping him, but who? And how?

Then he saw him, turning from cover, his laser pistol barking death down the hall. His grey coat was scorched, torn, and full of laser holes. He could see the stains of Morbius' vicious work on it.

"Fight harder you cowards!" He heard him yell over the battle. "I gave you life! You will fight for your master!" No one had noticed The Doctor yet, and he was already getting an idea on how to get passed the Ravaged. He just had to thin their numbers a bit.

He looked down at Handles, thumbing the settings on his screwdriver.

"I never disabled your anti-hacking defenses, did I?" The Doctor whispered to the robotic head.

"No. You have only removed my offensive matrix," Handles returned.

"If I were to extend the power to about... say... ninety-five percent higher than what it currently is... would you survive?"

"I would serve as more of a conductor. Ninety-seven point six percent chance of survival." The Doctor nodded briskly. He was becoming attached to the head. He would hate to lose him now.

"I'll come back for you afterwards," The Doctor nodded.

"There is a fifty-six percent chance of that outcome," Handles prodded.

"Trust me, I will. Just don't be angry when I toss you." The Doctor pointed his screwdriver at the head, its whine uneven and out of tune.

"You have voided my warranty," Handles chimed, to The Doctor's surprise. Warranty? Cybermen didn't have warranties.

"Handles did you just make a joke?" The Doctor chuckled.

"Perhaps," was his single reply. Now The Doctor knew he had to go back for the head, if he was going to start cracking wise.

"Sorry 'bout this," he said, before flipping the head over in his hand. He then tossed it under-hand. The metal projectile arced into the center of the Ravaged.

With a single press of his screwdriver, The Doctor activated Handles. Normally, his anti-hacking software would just give someone a slight shock. The Doctor had boosted it however.

With a loud crack, it erupted with blue lighting, chaining out from the head. The Ravaged shouted in fear or pain as the lightning hit them, flinging them off their feet or slamming them into walls. It was enough to stun, but not kill. Although, The Doctor did wonder how much of a mercy to the Ravaged that truly was.

Morbius, ever aware, had managed to leap safely out of the way. A few others had escaped, but they were surprised and disoriented. His perfect opportunity.

The old Scotsman charged into the breach, running as fast as he could. He dodged passed walls and Ravaged alike, ducking as one shot just passed his head. He lept over one of the lower walls, bowling over a raising soldier in his path.

He heard Morbius shout a curse in ancient Pthumraian, and felt the shot sizzle passed his right shoulder. He had more important things to worry about.

Like the small army of Spoonheads ahead of him. They were already beginning to aim at him with their wrist guns or palm lasers. Before him was the no-man's land between the fortifications of the Spoonheads and the Ravaged. He obviously had not thought this through.

He aimed the screwdriver at one Spoonhead, disabling its wrist gun, then a second, its bulb-head flickering out. He skittered to the left as plasma and electricity bombarded him, this time aiming the sonic at the nearest vault door.

With a distorted beep, the door shuddered open. He dove through hitting painfully on his stomach. This room was simple; containing only a heavy metal chest with a key-pad lock on it. He half wondered what was contained inside.

But he didn't have the time to think to long, as his nemesis was right behind him. Morbius slammed into the door jam was a yell, returning fire at the Spoonheads. The Doctor saw a bolt of plasma rip down the side his arm. With a pained scream, Morbius shot one finial time, before stumbling into The Doctor's room. He fell to his knees, sucking his teeth in rage and pain.

The Doctor could see his coat was torn, and he had a black, smoking burn on his bicep. It wasn't deep but it looked beyond painful. Morbius looked up at him, his facial scars knitting back together before his eyes. The Doctor aimed his sonic at him.

"You're going to get us both killed, I hope you know that," he snarled breathlessly.

"I was hoping for just you," The Doctor snapped back. Morbius' glowing eyes narrowed, before he shook his head.

"Put that damned thing down. You're no good to me dead. I can't erase you if I kill you. Besides," he gritted his teeth, "I'm not getting through that out there without you." The Doctor snorted derisively. Did he really think he was going to help him?

"I'm not getting you through that hall!" He half laughed, "If we both die, it solves my problem. No Morbius." He was willing to sacrifice himself, and the rest of his lives, if it meant he didn't acquire that gun.

"If I don't find it, then I'm sure my partner will. Believe me, he is far worse than I." Morbius appeared almost bitter. It sounded less like a partnership and more like someone was controlling him. Maybe his threat was empty but could he gamble like that?

"Besides, The Great Intelligence knows it's here. Do you really want The Legion getting their steel hands on it?" Morbius finished. Legion? What was he talking about?He couldn't possibly mean Cybermen. What did they have to do with The Intelligence?

The mad Time Lord obviously read his confused expression, a smug smile stretching across his face. "Ohh.. you don't know, do you? Oh, that's rich!"

"What? What are you talking about?" The Doctor demanded. Morbius did not relent.

"Oh, come now. You really aren't that dull. Can't you tell?" Was he truly alluding to the Cybermen somehow? That was absurd. The Doctor didn't reply. He would feign complete ignorance to even an idea. Morbius loved being the smartest one in the room. It made him gloat and talk. The Doctor had suspicions, remembering the silver Spoonhead in Killcrest Manor.

"Oh, come now. If you can't riddle it out, I'm not going to tell you. But I will say, if they kill us, they'll have two of four. We'll have done all the work for them. It's only a hop and a skip to the last few. Do you really want anyone... "he now rolled his eyes indignantly, "except you of course, to have that power?"

The Doctor knew he was being manipulated. Morbius was just luring him into helping him. His allusions to the Cybermen were probably lies, as was his partnership. He was a psychopath after all. Once one commits genocide, a few lies are nothing. The Doctor knew from personal experience.

Then again, he couldn't take the chance. What if even part of what Morbius was saying was the truth? Then there were the Daleks... Morbius was banking on his kindness. That he would put the lives of the innocent over his own. It gave him no choice. They would need to work together. He couldn't let anyone find thr Epoch Lens. Morbius was right.

"Alright, we'll put our rivalry aside until we reach that vault, lest the Daleks get it," that was his largest concern. The Daleks possessed some De-Mat technology, but nothing even close to the Epoch Lens. God forbid...

"Well now, did that hurt?" Morbius sneered, "but at least I can count on your ridiculous altruism." The Doctor was just as disgusted by Morbius so the feeling was mutual.

"Alright then, do you have a plan? Besides berate your own henchmen and split open your face?" The Doctor shot back. The hall outside shook as a rocket streaked by, eliciting painful screams from the Ravaged.

Morbius just looked at him as though he wanted to sock him in the face.

"My men are useless in actual tactical situations. They are only good for shooting and dying, so we can not rely on them." Morbius shrugged.

"Of course, you can't, you made them out of corpses," snarked The Doctor.

"If you hadn't destroyed my cult, I would have fully functional, intelligent, mercenary slaves on my side," Morbius shot back.

"Pardon me for dismantling an empire of evil," The Scotsman shook his head. They were wasting time discussing ideology.

"Hmmmmm..." the madman was now looking over at the box, "I wonder what our little hoarder friends were keeping in here." Before The Doctor could say a word, Morbius shot the pad-lock with his pistol, utterly melting it. With a swift kick, he opened the box.

The Doctor recognized the gun inside. It appeared almost like a ray gun, but it was covered in a thick second-skin of wires and coils. The barrel came to a cross-shaped point, which spun when fired.

This object was called the Prehiphery Omega. There was only one in existence, built by the one, the only, Clockmaker.

The Time Lords had locked it away before the war and before the Clockmaker's disappearance. Once the conflict with the Daleks escalated, it was eventually pulled out for use. It promptly fell into the plungers of the Daleks. The Doctor knew not what had happened to it from that point onwards. It had been assumed that the mad Time Lord had recovered it, along with all his other inventions. Obviously, they had been mistaken.

It was a curious item, most often called a portal gun. That was inaccurate, like calling a potato a fruit. It did create a hole along a surface such as a wall, door, or floor. However, it wasn't just creating a way through; it was distorting time inside the hole forward or backwards, until it finds a stream where the barrier didn't exist. It, quite literally, circumvents time to penetrate even the impenetrable.

"My, my, my, what fun," Morbius cooed, holding the gun up, examining it, "what ever happened to the old goat?"

"He disappeared, a long time ago," The Doctor replied. Morbius nodded, with a chuckle.

"Things from the past never stay gone, not forever." the madman returned, "This should help us." With that he turned to the wall, aimed and fired.

It made no sound, but the violet shaded ball splattered along the wall. It spread out, making a shimmering, man sized hole into the neighboring vault. He saw Morbius grin, looking back at him with malicious light in his eyes.

The Doctor followed his enemy into the next vault, immediately seeing the enormous gun contained within. This cannon was obviously derelict, missing most of it's pieces. Masses of wires hung out from multiple holes in the sides, and there was a massive, burned hole in the side. This was a Dalek siege gun, that would rain down death from a distance. It was obvious it no longer worked, although he imagined there was a treasure trove of deadly technology inside.

Morbius seemed to frown at the state of it, before turning to the door.

"The Spoonmen should be right outside, get ready," Morbius was practically twitching with excitement. It was disgusting how much he enjoyed the fight.

"If we go through that wall over there," The Doctor pointed to the left-side wall, "we can just avoid them." He knew he wouldn't go for it but he wanted to try.

"Yes, but where would the fun be in that?" With that single statement, Morbius pulled the trigger. The violet portal appeared, revealing the entrenched Spoonheads.

They didn't see Morbius and The Doctor until the first shot was fired. The laser hit the nearest Spoonhead in the neck, instantly sheering off its glass head. Another, in cover near by, turned to face them, but The Doctor was quicker. His screwdriver warbled, the robot's wrist launcher exploding, catching its partner in the blast.

One of the others returned fire, shooting wide of Morbius. He replied with a shot from the Prehiphery Omega. The purple portal appeared beneath its feet, sending it tumbling to the lower floor. The Doctor aimed at another that was charging them, sending its gun flying from its hands with an electromagnetic shot.

Morbius now charged through the breach, firing his pistol. Two shots hit one in its chest, while a third shot destroyed its partner. The Doctor followed his enemy out, his screwdriver wrecking another gun in a shower of sparks. A shot flew passed his shoulder, the Doctor spinning about, aiming at its face.

He watched as its head-light went out, its sensors blinded. Morbius finished it, with a pair of sizzling holes to the chest. Morbius whipped around, ducking beneath a Spoonhead stabbing at him with a drill. In response, he tackled it around the waist, and flung it forward with a ferocious yell. It went flailing into the nearby window, crashing through it. Its electronic screech faded as it fell, disappearing from sight.

This drew The Doctor's attention to the outside. More lights were hurtling down from the sky, and he felt the collision as they hit the floor below. More Daleks, but they weren't from Davros' ship. Was there another Dalek ship out there?

Morbius was distracted by the few Spoonheads remaining. This was his chance. He would have no other.

The Doctor rushed down the Time Lord from behind. He ran into Morbius hard, shocking him, and tore the Prehiphery Omega from his grasp. He ran as fast as he could, a hail of gunfire following him. He skidded around the corner, into the next hallway.

This was just like the last, lined by vaults. The hall's defenses were up, but this battle was over. All the TWCA guards were already dead, likely killed by the Spoonheads that he and Morbius had been fighting. He didn't know which vault contained the Epoch Lens part, but he needed to figure it out fast.

The floor beneath him suddenly shook, as the laser started once again. He started to run, but it was too late. He was thrown to the floor as the burning, teal, beam ripped through the center to the hall up ahead, charring a path in his direction. He started to crawl backwards, as the deadly, melting ray inched closer and closer.

Just before it reached him it stopped, leaving him wide eyed, his hearts pounding. He had just gotten incredibly lucky. The hallway was now destroyed, the floor melted and wall scorched. Some of the vault doors were melted and destroyed; he half hoped one of them was the one containing the Epoch Lens piece. If it was destroyed, his biggest problem was solved.

Before the knew what was happening, Morbius was on him in a flash. He grabbed him by the back of his jumper throwing him forward, painfully across the floor.

"What was your plan after letting me die? Hmm?" A heavy kick hit his ribs, nearly doubling him up. Morbius yanked the Prehiphery Omega from his hands, and started down the hall.

But the Doctor was not about to take this laying down. He managed to grab ahold of Morbius' leg, and threw him to the floor with a yell. The Doctor staggered to his feet, getting passed the rising Time Lord.

The pair raced down the melted hallway, fighting the whole way. Morbius tried to throw The Doctor to the ground, but he shoved him into the wall. His trip attempt was met by Morbius trying to push him to the floor. All he managed to do was push The Doctor back. His gun aimed at The Doctor's legs, zapping a sizzling shot. The old Time Lord jumped over it, and Morbius shoved him as he landed.

The Doctor pushed his hands in the madman's face, with Morbius grabbing the back of his neck. Morbius finally hooked The Doctor foot with his own, throwing him to the floor. The Doctor tried to grab Morbius as he fell, but instead hit flat on his face. The maniac ran on, barely looking back.

The Doctor immediately stumbled to his feet, giving chase. He wasn't about to let him get away, not now. He saw the Time Lord stop, and turn, aiming the Prehiphery Omega at one of the vaults. He squeezed the trigger, purple flames writhing a gateway through. He disappeared within.

The Doctor was right on his heels, skidding to a sudden stop, and blindly entering the portal. Morbius already had the metal box upon the pedestal open, the lock laying molten on the floor. He held its contents up to his eyes, thrust in the air.

It was a small object similar to the jeweler's loupe, though instead of glass it was filled with an oblong gemstone. It seemed to glitter when the light hit it, light reflecting off it, creating glimmering patterns where ever it pointed.

His grin was insane, his malicious eyes filled with an evil glee. The Doctor aimed his screwdriver at the Time Lord, who only snorted with derision in return.

"Give it here," The Doctor's Scottish tone growled aggressively.

"Highly doubtful. You know..." Morbius now aimed the lens at The Doctor, his chest painted by the funneled, rainbow of lights, "this universe is much, much darker without you in it. So much death... destruction, conquest and genocide..."

"I've saved this universe time and time again. Without me..."

"I have a body. I can see it... transcending that cobbled together pile of refuse I called a form on Karn, to something far more useful. Without you I am... whole. A monster no longer."

"You will always be a monster Morbius, no matter what you look like," The Doctor shook his head, leveling him a glare.

"We're all monsters. Some of us just admit it. Now... out of my way old man. I can't kill you but I can hurt you as much as I wish."

"Come now gentlemen, need we be so barbaric?" A new voice came from behind them. Both men turned, gazing at the robot outside the portal. As it strolls through, it's skin shifted.

It became a form he had long since revealed. It had been some time indeed since he had seen the older man, with the cold eyes and top hat. He knew it was only an illusion, but it had perfectly created his hooked nose and sneering demeanor. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, just as he had all those years ago on Trenzalor. He stood before the pair, his face serious, countenance ever condescending.

"Good evening Doctor, Morbius," his proper tone started, and he nodded to both men coldly, "This chaos has gone on long enough. I believe it is time we have words, don't you?" The Doctor looked over at Morbius, then his old foe, The Great Intelligence. This night was just getting better in spades.


	14. Down the Rabbit Hole

"I guess I owe you an explanation, don't I?" Sarah Jane nodded in agreement as she followed her savior. This mysterious woman, with flowing red locks, had saved her twice now when all things seemed lost. She did indeed want to know who she was.

Although Sarah already had a theory. The snake tattoo on her arm gave her away to The Doctor. She was a Time Lady, called The Corsair. One that was dead in the future, according to the other Time Lord. Sarah Jane snickered a bit. For an extinct race, there were now three of them in one building. So how extinct were they really?

"That would be nice," Sarah Jane huffed. These stairs were exhausting. Then again, lifts kept trying to kill her so maybe this was a better alternative after all.

"Where to start..." the young woman murmured, "that song is accurate, there are a lot of things I would like to say to you..." Sarah Jane shook her head. She may not have been dressed as a witch this time, but she was just as strange.

"You can call me The Corsair. I'm well..."

"A Time Lady?" Sarah finished. Her suspicions were confirmed. This was exactly who The Doctor expected back in Wardwall.

"Ah, still a quick study!" The Time Lady exclaimed, "Wonderful! I do love the smart ones. Smart is beautiful, never let anyone tell you otherwise." She stopped for a moment, looking up the stairwell, probably trying to see how many floors they had left to get up.

"I should thank you," Sarah returned, "that's the second time you've saved my life." Had The Corsair not arrived, there is no telling what the Daleks would have done to her. They may have taken her prisoner. She may have been tortured, maybe for years. Or they might have just killed her. Either way, her gratitude could not be properly expressed.

The Corsair waved her hand at her. "Oh, don't worry about it, Sarah. Let's just say I knew right where to look and what to do." Sarah thought that was an odd thing to say but pushed it aside. There were more important things to attend to.

"Where are we going? We need to help The Doctor!" Sarah hollered as the laser outside roared its deadly beam. It sounded like it was somewhere far above. The building shook and shuddered. She wondered how many of those it could take.

Her savior had explained nothing, and had just done as The Doctor seemed fond of doing; she grabbed her hand and told her to run. That must be a Time Lord trait. Regardless, she would like a bit more explanation than that.

The Time Lady stopped abruptly, looking distracted for a moment, before looking at the door before them.

"Here actually, this one. Floor thirty-five," she nodded, but looking a bit unsure, "or at least it's been here eight out of ten tries..." she muttered under her breath. Thirty-five... she had heard that before.

"That's ironic, Charles was trying to get me here too..." Sarah replied. She immediately felt a pang of guilt. The Mechromancer was almost certainly dead now. What was worse, he had died to protect her.

"Charles?" She gave her a surprised look, her eyes narrowed, "wait... isn't this vault run by Shygos Lobrand?" Sarah imagined she was now equaling The Corsair's look.

"No, Charles Lemay..." Sarah replied. Perhaps The Corsair's information was merely outdated. She was a time traveler after all.

"That's... curious." The Corsair whispered, more to herself then Sarah Jane, "normally he's dead by now."

"What do you mean normally?" Sarah was becoming more confused by the moment. Just like last time, the woman spoke in riddles and gave only half of the information.

"Never mind that, I'll tell you later. Now, we're going to vault thirty-eight sixty-five. That's where what I'm looking for should be, then we need to get up to floor forty. We should be able to get there fairly quickly."

"What is on forty? We need to get to The Doctor!" Sarah Jane argued. If Morbius was here, it was only logical he would be heading straight for his Time Lord nemesis. Both men were going to the vault containing the Epoch Lens part. It was only a matter of time.

"There is a prisoner on floor forty. It may hold the key to ending all of this. For good," her eyes were earnest, her voice soft, and caring, in almost a mothering way, "The Doctor will be fine. He has Jack Harkness."

"You mean ending Morbius?" Sarah Jane watched her shake her head. She did not even bother asking how she knew Jack was with them. It was obvious the Time Lady had some foreknowledge.

The ginger touched her arm with one hand, and lightly grasped her hand with her other. She smiled a bit, a sort of sad smile. Although it was filled with warmth, there was something else behind it. She could see the age there; the ancient soul trapped in a young body. Yet, something else unexplained lingered there.

"Morbius is the lesser of all of the evils you are facing here. There is another who is weaving his own dark plot that will encompass everything, and everyone," there was darkness in her voice that she had not seen, not even that day back in Wardwall.

Sarah however, believed she knew of what she spoke. Part of it was the current battle here in the TWCA. Part of it was her conversation with Vastra only a couple of days ago. Part of it was just her ability to read between the lines, a skill she learned from years with The Doctor.

"You mean The Great Intelligence," Sarah knew she was correct when she saw the light smirk across her rosy lips.

"Always so brilliant..." she seemed to muse. Sarah figured she was on a roll, so she asked the most nagging question she had.

"Is that why you gave me this?" She held up her hand, showing off the Celtic band on her finger. The onyx time ring had been given to her by The Corsair herself, and The Great Intelligence had already tried to get his hands on it. None of that told her why she had given it to her. Or why The Great Intelligence wanted it so badly.

The Corsair looked at the ring, then back at Sarah Jane.

"It was an insurance policy. I know The Doctor will attempt to leave you behind, out of kindness. That will help you get back to him."

"He has already done that, I convinced him otherwise..." Sarah Jane confided awkwardly. It still made her feel sad, no matter how much she understood it.

"Then I suggest you keep it," she was kind of word but firm, "because if you know him at all, he will try again and succeed."

She now took her gun from her back, flipping a switch on the side. With a light wherr, it lit up red, primed to fire.

"You have no idea how much I would love to chat with you right now, but we need to go." She nodded, staring at the door.

"Right, sorry," said Sarah sheepishly. This was not the best place to catch up after all.

"We'll talk later. I promise, pirate's honor," she grinned, crossing two of her fingers with a wink.

The door ahead of them opened, and the pair rushed through. The single Ravaged within was caught completely off-guard, and The Corsair's shot hit it flush in the back. It had not even the time to yell as it hit the floor.

It was evident immediately that a huge battle had occurred here between the Spoonheads and the Ravaged. Their bodies littered the floor and draped over the fortifications. There were more dead Ravaged then Spoonheads. It was becoming clear to Sarah the Ravaged were losing this fight. Between the Spoonheads and Daleks, they were both technologically and tactically inferior.

Though their losses were far less than the TWCA soldiers. Sarah had barely seen any of those recently. She hoped that an evacuation protocol was in place, because otherwise it meant most of them were dead.

She followed The Corsair around the bend, and down the next hall, finding more scorched remains of combat. She didn't even want to look at it anymore, the Ravaged in particular. These had once been people, with lives, families and feelings. What could anyone have done to deserve such a terrible fate? Nothing befitted that... nothing.

Luckily, The Corsair's pace was so fast that she had not the time to think about it. The woman was as bad as The Doctor, moving at a hundred miles an hour in complete mania. This one just carried a gun, which Sarah could not decide whether or not it was a bad thing.

As they reached the final vault in the hall she stopped, glancing left, then right. It looked as though she was trying to re-orient herself, before she nodded. She raised her gun at the door glancing at Sarah with a quick nod. Sarah was about to offer her Charles' card, but the time traveler was well under way.

"Stand back." Sarah did just that as The Corsair thumbed another switch on the gun's side, and squeezed the trigger.

A red, hot, molten beam shot from the gun, boring into the edges of the door. She watched the woman set her feet, and she slowly drug the beam along the edge of the door. It left a molten, burning trail in its path as she brought it along the top, then along the other side. Finally, she raked it along the bottom, before shutting the gun down. The melted metal glowed like coals, and the smell was caustic and almost unbearable.

The Corsair seemed to either not notice or not care as she strolled up to the door, and kicked her foot hard in the center, reminding Sarah of a police officer. The door smashed down to the floor with a deafening boom, and The Corsair gestured for Sarah to come.

"That, my dear, sweet, Sarah, is how you break into a vault with style and aplomb," she bowed and followed her human companion through.

This room was simple like the last vault she had seen, however the box in this one was glass instead of metal. Inside was a strange gauntlet that fit on the right hand. It was made of something resembling brass, with a fingerless glove made from leather. She could see a multitude of gears sticking out from the sides of the forearm piece, and some kind of hook attached to the bottom. The top was adorned with a small screen and around fifty or so knobs and switches Sarah knew she would never master in a hundred years. In fact, she wasn't even sure what it was actually used for in the first places.

The Corsair walked up to the box, and gave it a light tap with the butt of her rifle, putting a hole in the case. She cleared the rest away, picked it up, and looked it over with a grin.

"What is that?" Sarah asked. She watched as The Corsair slipped it on, tightening. She flexed her hand a few times, then adjusted the hook. She watched her look over the buttons, pressing a few and flipping a switch.

"It's a grappling hook," The Corsair answered absent-mindedly, continueing to fiddle with the face buttons.

"A grappling hook? How is that going to help us?" Sarah Jane tried not to let her dissatisfaction creep into her voice. In a war zone like this, how was that going to help? She thought, when Charles had told her it was something that would help them get around, it was something more along the lines of a vortex manipulator. Something that could pass through walls or across time. Not a grappling hook.

"Oh, come on Sarah, have some faith. It's capable of more than it looks," she heard the gauntlet ping, "I did build this after all, see? It's on the opposite side so it doesn't cover up my tattoo." She wiggled her other wrist, showing off her signature Ouroboros mark.

"This is yours?"

"Well, a version of me anyway, before he died of course. Listen, you're just going to need to trust me, this thing can lift eight Juudon, easy. The two of us shouldn't be a problem." Did The Corsair really expect her to ride that thing with her? She must have lost her mind.

She must have noticed her incredulous gaze.

"Just trust me Sarah. Have I ever led you astray before? I mean granted, we've only met one other time, but that turned out alright, didn't it?" She had been right back in Wardwall, and it had led Sarah right to The Doctor, allowing her to save his life. However, it hadn't been without its considerable danger.

"Other than nearly getting eaten it worked out fine," groused Sarah Jane.

"Oh, come on, you saved the whole town, saved The Doctor, and ended up fit as a fiddle. What is bravery without some risk?" The Corsair's grin was as charming as ever. She certainly had a cult of personality about her. But Sarah Jane was not so easily swayed. Maybe back when she was in her twenties but not now.

"I don't think..." but the Time Lady was having none of it.

"We are on a very limited time table here. If I were The Doctor, you would trust me, right?" The Corsair leveled her a knowing look, and she wasn't wrong.

"But, you aren't The Doctor," Sarah pointed out. She trusted The Doctor more than anyone. Sometimes even more than herself.

"No... I'm not. Once again, I'm going to need to ask you to trust me. We're not saving him directly this time, but what we do today... it might not just be his life in the balance. It might be everyone's and everything's." Her green eyes said more than any of her words could. She could see how important it was to her. Her belief in what she was doing was incontestable.

Something in those eyes reminded her of The Doctor. His eyes were old like his body, but appeared even older sometimes. They held the eons prisoner inside them. They had seen the cosmos turn. This woman... her eyes were not the same. They were younger perhaps but something else lurked there that most didn't notice.

Some people called it the "thousand-yard stare." The look in the eyes of someone who had seen war, horror, and death. She saw it in The Doctor sometimes, when he looked off for a moment when he thought she was looking somewhere else. She had it too, but it was more in the forefront.

Maybe Sarah Jane noticed it because she had been with The Doctor for so long. Maybe it was because she had known men like Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, who had spent a life in combat. Maybe it was just her ability to see a person's true face beneath any and all veneers.

What had those pretty green orbs seen? What had she lost? Why was she trying so hard? It was more than just war and death. But what?

"Ok... I'll do whatever you need me to do," Sarah Jane nodded. The Corsair's grin said it all.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." She made one more adjustment to her hook, before turning for the door. "Well, come on then, no time to waste."

With that, The Corsair ran from the room, Sarah Jane on her heels. They rushed out into the empty hall, and around the bend. The Corsair still had her rifle in her hands, ready, but no fight came. These halls were empty, the fighting now elsewhere. Sarah Jane hoped that it was over but knew how unlikely that was. Until everything was dead, the Daleks would never stop fighting.

The pair exited into the stairwell, The Corsair looking up. Sarah could hear gunshots echoing from the lower floors, and the yells of extermination. The Corsair shouldered her gun, looking down, then back up. She looked at her hook launcher, and pressed a series of buttons with blinding speed. She aimed up with her arms, and with a loud thump, fired. Sarah watched the as the flexible, metal cord shot from the gauntlet, the cogs and gears spinning rapidly.

Suddenly everything was pulled taunt, the gears ticking to a stop. The Corsair glanced up, before nodding.

"Alright, all aboard," she shrugged. Sarah stepped tentatively forward, unsure what to do.

"Here, loop both arms under mine, and clasp your fingers, like your giving me a tight hug. And for God's sake don't let go!" Sarah pocketed the Villengard Pistol and did as she was told, holding herself to the Time Lady as tightly as she could. She wasn't ashamed to admit that she was shaking. This was probably the riskiest, and dumbest, thing she had done in awhile.

The Corsair reciprocated, wrapping her other arm around Sarah's waist. She looked at and nodded confidently.

"On three, count with me," The Corsair said.

"One. Two."

Sarah Jane's three turned into a scream as The Corsair pulled on the cord and they were jettisoned upwards. The stairwell flew, the wind in her ears drowning everything out. She shut her eyes, a death grip on the Time Lady.

She felt themselves thrust forward, and before she knew what had happened, her feet touched solid ground again. She stumbled a bit, The Corsair's hand steadying her as she opened her eyes.

She watched the Time Lady retract the rest of the line, having hooked it on the railing of the floor above. With a ticking click it locked back into place, The Corsair nodding in approval. Sarah Jane's legs still shook and her stomach was in knots, but she was glad to be on solid ground.

"See that wasn't so bad," The Corsair sauntered to her. She tugged on Sarah Janes shirt to smooth and brushed her messy hair out of her face. "See? Pretty as a picture," she gave her a light tap on the cheek.

"I'm never doing that again," Sarah finally let out the breath she had not realized she was holding.

"I don't know what you're so flustered about, it's not like you're the one wearing this," The Corsair shrugged, smoothing her kilt down so it did not ride up, "I mean, I hope there wasn't anyone down there. I am wearing this properly and I'm not that kind of girl." Sarah couldn't help but snicker. Time Lords; always more worried about their cloths than the insane dangers of what they were doing.

Sarah went first, her key from Charles remotely opening the door for them. The Corsair took the lead from there with Sarah staying close. She pulled out Jack's pistol, just to be safe. She had no idea what was up here. It could be empty, or a complete war zone.

As the pair ran through the robotic and patchwork corpses, Sarah felt the floor shake again. Although she could not see it, she heard the laser bellow. Davros was really serious this time.

They reached the final vault before the corner, and The Corsair stopped. She shouldered her gun, and turned to Sarah Jane.

"Listen... in this vault, is a Time War criminal like you have never seen. These Daleks were... depraved," The Corsair showed a calm exterior, but Sarah could see her hands twitch and her eyes dart. She was nervous. What in all the universe could make a Time Lady like her nervous.

"All Daleks are depraved," Sarah shook her head. She didn't feel like that needed to be specified.

"These are different. These are more like the Cult Of Skaro, if you're familiar," The Corsair had her jaw set. This was making her nervous. Sarah could see it. What could make even one such as The Corsair squirm.

"Abundantly." Sarah Jane remembered The Cult of Skaro very well, particularly their mad leader, Dalek Caan.

"If anything, these Daleks were a hundred times worse. The Volatix Cabal are responsible for some of the most loathsome weapons ever engineered."

"What are you hoping to accomplish here?" None of this made sense. Was she here to kill this Dalek? Or interrogate him?

"I need to find out what he knows. Listen, I will explain everything to you later, I promise you. But, I just need you to trust me. You're going to hear many things that won't make sense. Just let me do the talking. Alright?" Sarah nodded.

"I understand," Sarah Jane's stomach was in knots. She had no idea what to expect in there. If this Daleks was anything like Caan, then she was in for a bumpy ride. She handed Charles card to the Time Lady, who nodded.

"Let's do it like civilized people this time?" Sarah Jane smirked.

"Fine, have it your way," The Corsair mock rolled her eyes, and held the card up to the door. The red pad on the side lit up green, with a loud ping. The door slid open into the darkened room. The Corsair hesitated for just a second, before walking through, and Sarah tensely followed.

The cell was dank and musty, with only a pair of red spotlights in the ceiling providing any source of illumination. The air was stale; Sarah could tell that this door had not been opened in a very long time. It was devoid of all features.

Except for the prisoner, of course.

It sat in the center of the room, held in place by clamps that were connected to the walls. Three on each side kept it completely still; only it's head was capable of swiveling back and forth.

The top half was Dalek in shape. The metal was painted black, with gold trimmings. It's eye lens turned on, bright crimson, the stalk spinning toward them. It was the bottom half of this Dalek that Sarah Jane was dismayed by.

The bottom was a strange, glass, octagon. It was filled with a foamy, yellow, liquid. She could see glowing red tubes reaching down into it from the Dalek itself. She could see the bottom, bulbus tentacles hanging down, twisting and swirling in the fetid water.

She heard the electric hum of it powering up, and its electrical voices first words sent shivers up her spine.

"Will you walk into my parlor?' said the Spider to the Fly, 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy," It's deranged laugher sounded wholly unnatural through its electronics, loudly echoing out even into the hall. Sarah's skin crawled. She was a brave woman but she wanted to run. Her gut told her to run but she couldn't even make her legs move. This thing was... wrong. Even by the standards of the Daleks.

The Corsair glanced at her with a firm nod, and walked forward. Her exterior was calm, but Sarah Jane could see her hands shake ever so slightly. She felt the same way.

"And what and pretty little fly you are," it cooed, "why have you walked into my web?" The Corsair took in a sharp breath.

"I was sent to seek you by Dalek Vox," she introduced. Dalek Vox? Had Sarah heard her correctly?

"Vox... yeeeesss. Vox of the Time War."

"So, you are indeed a member of the Volitix Cabal," The Corsair nodded.

"He and I, who took the vow. From this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." Sarah Jane had a dark feeling she would never view Shakespeare's most famous speech the same way again.

"Then you can tell me about the Heretic Contagion." Sarah had heard that word already; Heretic. From Davros. Was this The Corsair's doing? Or... and she shuddered to think, was she helping the Dalek father? That was unthinkable. It had to be something else. There had to be something else going on here. Something she did not understand. She said there would be things she wouldn't understand.

"I can. Though why should I?" it asked. It sounded in its voice like it was grinning, something no Dalek was capable of. Joy was not in their vocabulary.

"Another is using it to turn the Daleks on their master. I want to stop them," The Corsair was frank. But Sarah had heard enough. Why? Why didn't she want the Daleks to turn on Davros? If they were killing each other they weren't victimizing others. And if she knew Daleks, they would fight themselves into extinction.

"Why is that bad?" Sarah Jane finally turned to the woman, to a surprised burble from the Volatix Dalek.

"Not now Sarah, I will tell you later," The Corsair waved off sharply.

"No, now," she insisted, to a glare from the red-head, "because it sounds like you're working for Davros."

"You have to joking me," The Corsair burst out disingenuously.

"A house divided cannot stand!" The mad Dalek screeched gleefully, it's laughter deafening.

"What do you take me for?" The Corsair's sneered

"I have no idea! All I know is your trying to cure Daleks!" Sarah countered, a little louder than the Time Lady.

"The Doctor is more often to be feared than the disease," cackled the cultist.

"I'm not curing Daleks!" Her voice was shaking now.

"Did Davros put you up to this?" Sarah knew how the crazed all-father of The Daleks worked. He lured people into traps. What if the Corsair wasn't even the Time Lady she claimed to be.

"How dare you! I saved your life!" She spat back.

"Did you really? Or are you just using me like you did in the swamp." She had manipulated her once already.

"I'm not using you!" The Corsair took a step forward.

"I would need to be insane to believe you!" Sarah's voice was shaking now, one-part anger, two fear.

"I'm mad. You're mad. We're all mad here," the Volatix Cabal member whispered darkly. It was like it was egging them on. The Corsair presses her palm to her own forehead, exasperated.

"Get it through your skull. I'm. Not. Manipulating. You! I'm not the enemy here!" She didn't look at her, but her jaw was locked.

"Then what is it!? What the hell are you doing!"

"The Great Intelligence is building an army of hijacked Daleks and Cybermen that will drown this universe in fire!" The Corsair suddenly lashed out, at the top of her voice. Her anger had gone from zero to sixty in a second, her green eyes aflame even in the dark. Sarah felt herself step back from the Time Lady fury.

"And all of you IDIOTS are just letting it happen! You don't even see it coming until it's too late!" She was crying now, barring her teeth like an animal, "So maybe you need to stop judging what you can't understand and help me save your stupid, idiotic, moronic, beautiful, wonderful lives!" They stood in silence for a few moments, eyeing each other.

Sarah Jane wasn't angry anymore. The Corsair wasn't either, not really. She was desperate. Is that why she stared for an eternity? She had seen death... the death of everyone and everything?

That cold feeling settled in Sarah Jane's chest. She remembered her dream, the Great Intelligence's army of Daleks, and his Cybermen body guards.

She was telling the truth. Sarah knew it in her gut. It was unexplainable. Her dreams, nightmares, were unexplainable. Yet, it was obviously true. A combined army of Daleks and Cybermen. It left her shell shocked and speechless. There was guilt there too. She couldn't have been more wrong in all her life.

"Anger and intolerance are the enemies of correct understanding," the Dalek mocked.

"Don't you ever say anything with anything in your own words," The Corsair finally looked away, wiping the tears from her eyes, glaring at the Dalek in front of her.

"You have my apologies, I have defiled myself with human literature," it giggled, the tentacles wiggling in the vat down below.

"I don't care what you have done to yourself," she raised her laser, aiming at the Dalek, teeth gritted together "all I care about is the Heretic Contagion. Tell me about it." Sarah heard the gun whine as it powered up. "Now."

"So single minded, just like a Dalek," mused the mad scientist, "but you have intrigued me. The Heretic Contagion was meant to make the Daleks stronger, as were all of our experiments."

"How could the Daleks turning on each other make them stronger. That is nonsense," The Corsair sneered.

"Familiarity breeds contempt," it hissed, "as the Great Exterminator and The Emperor toiled, creating more and more to fight the Great Battle, we saw what was happening to them. Inferior materials were being mutated."

"Inferior material?" Sarah questioned.

"They were growing cells from other Daleks," The Corsair explained.

"The soldiers were inbred and impure. There needed to be a purge. Separate the wheat from the chaff."

"You meant to start a Dalek civil war..." The Corsair seemed to have a moment of realization.

"The survivors would be the strongest among them. From them a new race of Daleks would be born. Daleks free of their loyalty to Davros or an Emperor. Free from mercy or weakness. Even among each other. From dust they were born, and unto ashes they shall return."

"The Great Intelligence has perverted and stolen your work," The Corsair lowered her gun now that the prisoner was talking freely.

"Curiosity killed the cat... I am very curious what he has done to it."

"He has used it to ally the Daleks and the Cyber Legion. He has created an unstoppable army," The Corsair answered, her rage again creeping into her tone.

"Not unstoppable. The rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man." Sarah Jane was not the most fervently religious woman, but hearing a Dalek quote the bible made her skin shiver.

"Explain yourself," ordered The Corsair, sneering again.

"We created the perfect virus, part machine, part genetic refuse. We chose each DNA sample with great discretion. We implanted these into our patient zero," she could hear the nostalgic glee in its voice.

"Who was that?"

"Dalek Vox. However, our plan never came to fruition; the best laid plans of mice and men. Our race was killed by The Doctor."

"That was where the Intelligence got it then. He pulled it out of your friend."

"So, this code was created from tissue originally, and what? Made into a computer virus?" Sarah finally piped in. She was trying to understand. It was difficult for her, despite her intelligence.

"All thought, all tissue, movement, can be converted into code," answered the Dalek, "Daleks are machine creatures, and will accept it with open arms."

"That's why the code is made of other languages of so many different races... it's a gene map," The Corsair looked as though her head was spinning.

"In a sense. We took those genes and gave them numeric or letter values based on what it came from. What am I to say? I had an affair on genocide with language." Its laugh was followed immediately by an electronic cough.

"That's probably how he was able to convert them to the side of the Cybermen. The genes were already there; Mondasian. He just needed to make them more prominent..." The Time Lady was theorizing out loud.

"We excluded the Cybermen. They followed a code. We needed the Daleks to sow chaos, not follow rules. If that is present, it is the corrupting factor." He was frank and logical.

"How do I decode it? I need to stop it." The Corsair was even more intense, though in a different way. It seemed as though this was closer to excitement mixed in her tense anger.

"You cannot. It is impossible." The Volatix member answered.

"There must be a way to stop it," she fired back.

"It requires a host. It makes the blind see. It sends out its disease to all other infected with it's bliss."

"Wait..." she held out a single finger, "You're saying someone is transmitting it to the other Heretics."

"The first is required to lead his flock into the light," breathed the creature of metal and flesh.

"So, if it is killed..."

"The transmission will continue. But it is not to say that it cannot be corrupted once again. History, if forgotten, is doomed to repeat."

"He has bases everywhere!" The Corsair yelled, slapping her forehead, "That's why! Their boosting the signal! If can find the original location, and corrupt the code..."

"Hell shall descend, genocide will be reborn."

"I can corrupt his version of the Code!" The Corsair translated. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth open, as she spun on her heel. She pumped her arm in excitement. This had obviously been the information she had searched for.

"The Daleks will return to their original, Heretic programming?" Sarah asked. She was sure she understood. It would turn them against the Cybermen and The Great Intelligence.

"They will kill their inferior allies and assert their dominance over all others," it confirmed, loudly proclaiming, "Daleks rain supreme! Extermin-hate! EXTERMIN-HATE! "

The Corsair looked as though she was about to reply, when a different shout caused both to turn around. It was the yelling of a man, screaming at the top of his lungs.

He suddenly ran into view, stopping in front of their door. He was a TWCA soldier, although his mask was missing. He was a young-looking man, with a bushy beard and glasses. He appeared to have lost his helmet somewhere, as she could see his short-cut, black hair.

"You need to get out of here, now!" He shouted, panic in his eyes, "the building is about to come down!" Immediately Sarah was gripped by a wave of fear. They needed to get out and find The Doctor.

The Corsair however, looked puzzled. She took a step forward, eyeing the soldier suspiciously.

"No... that's not right... we should have about twenty more minutes... how can that be? The Dalek laser doesn't hit the fuel reserve until..."

"Do not go gently into that long goodnight. Rage, rage against the dying of the light," The Dalek behind them whispered.

The TWCA soldier's facial expression changed to an evil smile instead. His voice no longer was his own, instead a cool, collected, high-born tone. Sarah recognized it immediately, and it sent the same chills up her spine. The voice of The Great Intelligence.

"Did your think that you could run from me forever? That I would not find you? Have we not been doing this dance long enough for you to know better?"

His face began to shift, dividing into squares as it folded back, and he raised his arm, a gun popping from his wrist.

"Sarah! Get down!" The Corsair screamed. Sarah Jane raised Jack's gun, managing to fire off a single shot, as The Time Lady collided into her. She was thrown to the floor as the rocket whooshed by, the Time Lady on top of her.

The explosion erupted behind them, the defining bang joined by the electric screams of the Dalek, and the shattering of glass. Deadly shards and green water splattered them, raining down.

The Corsair stumbled off her, and Sarah looked up at the Spoonhead. Her shot had been somewhat true, having hit its chest. It crackled with electricity, stumbling sideways. She saw its light bulb-head light up, gathering power.

She was faster. Ever an expert shot, her laser shot a smoking hole through its glass face. It clunked to the floor in a twitching heap.

Then Sarah heard the light moan next to her. She turned to the Corsair. Behind them, the Volatix Dalek was destroyed, leaving behind a pool of putrid water and scorched metal. She could see some of the squid tentacles splattered around the room in gooey piles. This was not important to her, though.

The Corsair held her side, a pained expression on her face. She could see light flecks of red on her cheeks from the deadly shrapnel that was the Daleks glass tank. A jagged piece of glass stuck from just below her ribcage; she could see it between her fingers. Red blood was already oozing from her fingers, and her white shirt was soaking with it.

Glass that had been meant for her. Glass that should have killed her. She saved her again, even after she had accused her of working for Davros.

Only one thing escaped her, her voice weak and hoarse.

"Sarah... help me..." It was her turn now, to save this woman. And she intended to do just that.


	15. Rise of the Heretics

_(Author's Note: Alright, now things get explained, and somehow manage to get even worse. Read, enjoy, and review. Dedicated to feline38, without whom, none of this would be possible. Last but not least, happy Veteran's Day to all those who have served here in the states and around the world.)_

The Doctor glanced to his left as Morbius walked up beside him, suppressing a shudder of pure revulsion. He smelled of blood, that iron, rusty odor that was unmistakable. There had been rumors long ago that he would bathe in the blood of his victims. The Doctor never believed he was that deranged, but he was starting to wonder now. Then again, perhaps it was his burn, or the recent murders he had obviously committed.

The Great Intelligence walked forward, hands still clasped behind his back, his face unreadable. Even though this was merely an illusion, it still possessed those cold calculating eyes. He could feel them analyzing him and the madman beside him.

The Doctor gripped his screwdriver tightly. He knew not what to expect from his other enemy. The last time The Doctor had run afoul of The Great Intelligence, he had used one of his robots to kill a mansion full of people. It had been all to prove a point; that The Doctor couldn't save them. Now this place was filled with more of his soldiers than The Doctor could count. And, again, they were killing everything.

"You aren't one to talk of barbarism, Dr. Simeon. Look at what your creations are doing to this place," The Doctor replied. He still had not worked out why The Great Intelligence's men were here. It was more than just a vault of Time War technology.

"An unfortunate necessity. Not like that night in Killcrest Manor. That was out of line on my part. You have my apologies." The Doctor was taken aback. Was he kidding? He was apologizing for murdering a whole party full of innocent people, but the slaughter here, that was just fine?

"What exactly are you expecting me to say? You caused the death of five innocent people, and drove a career military man to insanity." He heard Morbius snort to his left.

"Only five? Christ man, you make it sound like that time I blew up the Hindenburg," he then started in a mocking tone, "Oh the humanity!' Please, you people make it so damned dramatic. He obviously used more restraint than I would have."

It was official. He was surrounded by psychopaths.

"Regardless, I believe that we can halt this chaos here. This helps no one." The Great Intelligence glossed over Morbius' homicidal comments.

"For once, we agree," The Doctor narrowed his gaze. The Great Intelligence was never this reserved, nor was he so altruistic.

"I am happy we see eye to eye," he nodded. He removed his top hat, pacing back to the right, "you see, I have seen your lives, each of them. I viewed you as the greatest agent of chaos the universe has ever known."

"Him?" A flabbergasted Morbius pointed, "you've got to be joking."

"Yes. He has spurred revolutions with words and destroyed armies with but a mention of his name. He is, for lack of a better descriptor, the ultimate weapon." The Doctor shook his head.

"Yes, hello, standing right here," he always hated it when people talked about him like he wasn't in the room, "what the hell are you getting at?"

"You have often spoken of your disdain for war. For death. For pain. What if I told you we could put an end to it?" The Great Intelligence stopped, staring at him.

"What is this, the Luke, come to the Dark Side speech?" The Doctor sneered, eliciting a snicker from Morbius.

"Far from it. You see, I have realized your chaotic nature has been in order to end war and death. Your ambitions are admirable, but ultimately misguided."

"And yours are correct I suppose?" The Doctor glared. He did attempt to end suffering. He fought injustice where he found it. He halted evil plans and plots of madmen where they appeared. He... endeavored to be kind, even when it didn't always work out that way.

"I have found something that could end all war. All suffering. All the misery," The Great Intelligence explained, "it will bring order to the universe. It is an end to chaos." The Doctor had that creeping feeling down his spine. This wasn't going anywhere good.

"This sounds boring," Morbius rolled his eyes with an immature groan.

"You, as I know, are abundantly familiar with The Daleks. The greatest force of war and chaos the universe has ever birthed. However, what if they could be a force for order?" The Doctor was already shaking his head.

"Nothing good can ever come from the Daleks. Ever," he returned forcefully.

"What if I told you that I have found a way to control the Daleks? To bend them to my will," the smile spreading across the Great Intelligence's dripped with evil. The Doctor almost took a step backwards, but stopped himself. What had he become now? What sort of monster was he facing?

"You created The Heretics," breathed the Time Lord. It all made sense now.

"So Davros has dubbed them. What I have done is make them more than what they were. Imagine them, not as bringers of chaos, but as enforcers of peace. They have the capabilities to end all wars."

"What your suggesting is a totalitarian regime! Oppression ruled by fear!" The Doctor fired back.

"Yes," The Great Intelligence admitted, with next to no difficulty, "it is an unfortunate fact that some will choose to continue along the path of chaos. Those malcontents will be eliminated. Those who do not willingly follow will be as well."

"Peace through force is not peace!" The Doctor knew someone like the Great Intelligence could never understand that.

"Isn't it? Are not the needs of the many greater than the needs of the few? Yes, some will need to parish for peace to exist, but the ends justify the means. They will have no choice but to conform. " It was cold logic. Logic that did not take life into account. Logic that did not take choice into account.

"What is the point if there is no choice? That isn't a life worth living!" Something like the Great Intelligence would never understand that. He may as well talk to a brick wall or the dirt.

"When they choose, they choose wrong. They choose the path of chaos and perdition. We must take that choice from them to have order."

"There is no we in this, Doctor Simeon." The Doctor would never agree with him on this. People deserved the chance to choose the life they wanted to lead. Maybe they did choose wrong. Some chose war, and murder, and death and chaos. But others chose, life, and love, and kindness and compassion. Every single being across the galaxy deserved the chance to choose what they wanted to be every day that they woke up, not live in some madman's version of peace and order.

"This is the only time I will extend my hand in partnership to you, Doctor. You are a brilliant mind. Even you must see the reason in this. Our goals are the same." He did indeed extend his hand, waiting. He would have to wait a long time before that would ever happen.

"Hardly. All you seek is control with a false name," he spurned.

"You are making a critical error," replied The Great Intelligence. There was no threat or edge to his voice. It was a flat tone.

"So are you," the edge to The Doctor's voice was as deadly as jagged glass. The only reason he was coming to him was the truth he was leaving out. He knew that he was the only being capable of stopping him.

The Great Intelligence only lowered his gaze, and placed his top hat upon his head with a smug smile. It turned sour when Morbius finally spoke.

"What part do the Cybermen play here then?" The Doctor had nearly forgotten the psychopath was here until he had spoken up. One hand covered his mouth, his glowing eyes analyzing the man before him. Morbius may have been insane, but he also happened to be one of the greatest minds to ever live. Dr. Simeon's eyes darted to him now.

"They too, are playing their part. Again, the aims are the same, peace," he calmly explained.

"Control." The Cybermen only wanted one thing; the assimilation of every living organism into the Cyberiad. Anything that could not be made exactly like them was destroyed. They were no better than Daleks. All either did was erase cultures.

It disturbed The Doctor more however, that Morbius had not been lying. The Cybermen were involved. It almost sounded like the Daleks and The Cybermen had somehow brokered peace. Something The Doctor had once believed to be impossible. However, considering two of his enemies he had once believed dead were now staring him in the face...

"It is interesting that they haven't seen fit to assimilate you," Morbius puzzled.

"We have an agreement," The Intelligence replied. Morbius snorted in return.

"The Cybermen never just 'have agreements.' And if they do they are never kept for long. Especially with something they consider inferior." Morbius was actually making a good point.

"They do not see me as inferior," The Great Intelligence was grinning again.

"Then you are either a fool, a liar, or you know something that I do not," Morbius returned the smile.

"All I have witnessed from you, Master Morbius, is mindless violence from a brute with no discipline," The Great Intelligence began pacing again, "however, I am abundantly familiar with your work in your previous life. I recall the vast empire you built."

"That I intend to build again," Morbius corrected.

"It was the pinnacle of control, both of others and of self. Granted, you had an unfortunate habit of making bloody spectacles of your enemies, however the facts remain, your civilizations were stable."

"I think I've heard about enough of both of..." started The Doctor. He did not at all like where he knew this was going, but Morbius silenced him, placing his glowing pistol to his temple.

"Don't think I won't," he threatened with a growl, then turned to The Great Intelligence, "do continue."

"I was beginning to believe that you no longer were capable of logical, methodical thought, but your interest in the Cybermen has proven me wrong. Despite your rage, you are in complete possession of your faculties."

"Thank you for noticing," he sneered, "at least someone appreciates my intellect."

"If you could again reforge your empire, as it was, with order and law, I could perhaps find a place in the golden age we intend to bring about." The Doctor nearly shook his head, but he dared not to. Things were going downhill faster and faster.

"What is in it for me?" the ever-selfish Morbius asked.

"Is regaining your standing not enough?" The Intelligence was obviously surprised by his tone.

"Hardly. I will rebuild my dominion with or without you. I will devour you," he smirked, "so you had best offer me something worthwhile." The Doctor wanted to grab the gun. To perhaps trip up Morbius, stop this from continuing. He knew Morbius, however. He was an expert combatant, and would not hesitate to kill him. He did not fear death. He needed to be alive to halt whatever came out of this.

"You are beholden to another," The Great Intelligence once again smiled, stopping his pacing in front of the Time Lord. He was grinning again. Morbius narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know..."

"I have servants everywhere. You are indebted to your reanimator, The Trickster."

That same coldness settled in The Doctor's stomach. The Trickster... he had thought that creature had vanished.

Some believed it to be a god, others saw it as an entity from another reality. Either way, it was a dangerous malevolent force. His presence was a dark omen.

Now, however, it all made sense; how Morbius was able to return. The Trickster could manipulate reality, and then fed upon the changes caused by his meddling. It was how he grew in power. He would make deals with other mortals, deals that benefitted him more than any other. His dice were always loaded, and the house always won.

He had resurrected Morbius, and now every step Morbius took gave the Trickster his powers back. Every murder, every fight, every action that Morbius made was never intended to happen. Therefore, it practically spoon-fed the Trickster. The ripple effect.

When he last met The Trickster, The Doctor had defeated him, with the help of Sarah Jane. Sarah had really been the one to cause his fall, and The Doctor had theorized that he had been drained of his power. A being like the Trickster could never truly die, but it could reach a weakened state in which it no longer had any influence.

Realization smacked him like a brick to a head. That was why Morbius was searching for the Epoch Lens. It wasn't only because of his own defeat. It was at his dark benefactor's behest. If he Morbius erased him, a man who had his fingers in more war and tragedy than any other, the change would be like a tidal wave.

The Trickster would gain his full power back, and even more. The Doctor shuddered to think what that would be. He would be able to warp reality at will. To create and destroy entire universes at will. He would be the master of time, space and reality.

Morbius was not stupid, not by any means. He was desperate however, and would do almost anything to gain back his life. He did not know if he was delusional enough to think such a creature would uphold such a bargain, or if he was too desperate to care.

Anger was settling firmly in The Doctor's chest. Why did it always end up this way? No matter how many times he defeated them, time and time again, they always came back. The Daleks, Morbius, The Great Intelligence, The Cybermen, now Trickster. They always came back. They always inflicted their wicked whims on others. Caused more pain and suffering on the innocent.

It almost felt pointless. It was like he never made any difference. It was discouraging in the worst way. Yet, he knew that was a lie. It made a difference to the people he saved. It made a difference to the worlds he stopped from being destroyed. It made a difference to people like Sarah Jane and Jack.

"Morbius, listen to me, the Trickster cannot be trusted," he was talking fast, glancing to the gun at his head. He half expected Morbius to just kill him. For everything to go black with finality.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid? Of course, he can't!" Morbius pushed his gun into his head angrily.

"I can help you," The Great Intelligence offered.

"No, he can't, he's a liar, just as much as the Trickster."

"And I suppose you can?" Morbius snickered bitterly. The Doctor wasn't going to lie to him.

"No, I can't, no one can," he saw the pale man squint with malice, "all you're doing by erasing me is making him a God. You need to break the deal." Morbius smirked sarcastically.

"So, I can just go back to being dead? Do you really think I would fall for your tricks?"

"It isn't a trick. All you will be is his slave." Morbius wouldn't listen. He knew that. Not many would. He would be sacrificing his life, for others. Something only a certain caliber of man was willing to do. Morbius was not that man. "A fate worse than death."

"He is wrong. I can help you. Complete your task for him, erase The Doctor, and gain back your body. The Trickster will trust you, and with our combined might, we will crush him." The Great Intelligence made a fist at this. The Doctor always hated such theatrics.

"He will be too powerful, he's lying to you," The Doctor countered. Morbius would never believe him but he had to try.

"No offense, but I'm planning to take the option that allows me to keep my life," Morbius shook his head.

"Then we have an accord?" The Great Intelligence was calm but he could tell he was eager.

"We do." Morbius agreed. The Doctor could not believe this was happening.

"Then I will require a task of you, as a gesture of good-faith," The Intelligence clasped his hands together. Morbius' grin disappeared.

"I suggest you tread carefully, old man. Just because we have an agreement doesn't mean you own me."

"Oh no. Do not misunderstand me. I merely believe this job fits your skill set. You see, there another Time Lord on floor forty of this very facility."

"That's not possible!" Both Morbius and The Doctor shouted in unison.

"It is possible. She calls herself The Corsair." The Doctor had heard that name once already today from Jack. All of this was too connected. What a mess. "She has been a thorn in my side for a very long time. One I believe it is time to remove her from the equation permanently."

Morbius was obviously receptive to this, his smile growing.

"Removing another Time Lord? It must be my birthday!" His glee was boiling over. He now turned to The Doctor, lowering his gun. "So sorry I can't just shoot you now, maybe another time."

With that, he pointed the Periphery Omega at his own feet, and fired. It vomited up the purple portal right beneath him, and Morbius fell through it. The gateway closed behind him, unlike the one they entered the vault through.

Now that they were alone, The Great Intelligence walked towards him, a self-satisfied smiled on his lips.

"Imbeciles, the lot of you," he shook his head.

"Not me, I saw through you like you were made of glass," The Doctor spat back.

"I never could deceive you for long," he shrugged, "But I have still won. Morbius will kill The Corsair, and assemble the Epoch Lens for me. I will kill you, here and now, once and for all. He will bring me the gun, thinking you are still alive, and I will destroy him. With the greatest Time Lord weapon at my disposal, no one will stand against me."

"You will never win. Not for long. There is a reason The Cybermen and The Daleks have yet to conquer the universe."

"And why is that?" The bemused man asked.

"All of them made the mistake of trying to kill me," The Scotsman replied darkly, standing nose to hook-nose with Dr. Simeon. His threat was earnest and he meant every word. He had his back up against the wall, with some of his worst enemies making themselves known. The Daleks, the Cybermen, The Great Intelligence, Morbius and The Trickster.

He would win. He would find a way. He would beat them all, one by one if he had to. He would do it, not because he wanted to, because he had to. Because he was the only one who could. Because it was right. Because sometimes, when he tried, he was The Doctor. The savior of worlds. The Oncoming Storm. Wiseman, healer and warrior, and last, true, Time Lord.

The Great Intelligence backed up, his smirk dripping with derision.

"There is no try here, old friend," The Great Intelligence raised his fist, the Spoonhead gun popping up from his wrist. He pointed it at The Doctor's chest. The Doctor was not afraid however. Instead, he smiled, at what was out in the hall, behind him.

"You're forgetting one very important detail," pointed The Doctor.

"And what is that?" Smirked his adversary.

"Them."

The Great Intelligence did not have time to turn around to see the Daleks behind him, coming from the left side of the hall. Three were silver in color, like many of the others. The two in front were larger, painted red and gold. Dalek Primes, their guns trained on The Doctor's old foe.

"What are you..." he started.

"EXTERMINATE!" The lead Prime's electronic voice screeched, followed by a screeming,teal, beam.

It hit the The Great Intelligence in the back, blowing apart it's lower body with a shower of sparks. With a clunk, it's torso hit the floor, The Great Intelligence's shocked face reverting to the metal, blinking bulb. The robot groaned one final time, reaching its hand out, before finally flopping on the ground, broken.

The Doctor would be happy, if it weren't for the Daleks, who's eye stalks now swiveled to him.

"The Doctor has been found,"the red prime barked.

"We will bring him before The Great Exterminator!" its partner answered.

"He will cure the Daleks! Daleks will reign supreme!" One of the others answered with shrill glee.

"How many time do I need to tell you, I didn't create the Heretics!" The Doctor shouted. He was trying to figure out how to get passed these Daleks. He wished Morbius hadn't taken the Periphery Omega. It would have made for an easy escape. Of course, nothing was ever easy with the Daleks.

"It does not matter. You will cure the Daleks," the prime replied.

More Daleks, these all silver, rolled into view from the right hall. There were about seven of them, all clustered together. Great, now he was completely trapped.

"I might actually think about it, if you guys asked nicely," he shook his head. He had to think fast. He was not about to get captured by Daleks.

The Daleks ignored his comments, however. He watched as the first group's stalks turned, eyeing the second arrivals. He thought it was odd. The way that they seemed to eyeball each other... something was wrong. Then...they started.

"Exterminate the Heretics!" The Prime yelled.

"Exterminate!" Its partner replied.

"Kill the sub-Daleks!"

The ones down the hall replied in kind.

"Kill the Daleks!" One screeched.

"Exterminate them!" Another yelled, "Exterminate!"

"Kill! Kill!" Another agreed.

Then they all started firing. Extermination beams fired in every direction, all sides screaming at each other. Some bounced off of shields, and he watched one of the Heretics explode in a ball of flame. It wasn't every day one saw Dalek on Dalek violence.

This was his chance however and he knew it. None of them were looking at him. They were too excited to kill each other. He would not get another opportunity.

With his screwdriver in hand, the Doctor ran, straight out of the portal. He stumbled as one of the Primes erupted in a ball of fire with a scream, and dodged to the left. He stumbled forward, dodging passed a screaming Heretic as it fired on its enemies. Two shots whizzed over his shoulder, missing him utterly. They did however, go down the eye stalk of another Dalek, destroying it in a conflagration of shrapnal.

He ducked passed that Daleks partner, as it fired on the surviving Prime. He heard its wail as it exploded in a ball of flames. He slid passed the last Dalek in the group, and ran down the hall.

He managed a glance backwards. None of the Daleks were even paying him any mind. They were too busy shouting and killing one and other.

It dawned on him, as he whipped around the corner, where these Daleks had come from. He had watched them shoot down from the sky when he and Morbius were trying to get passed all of the Spoonheads. They had landed on the floor beneath them. They were the Heretics; Daleks corrupted by The Great Intelligence. The Heretics were not a bluff. He didn't think they were but now he had seen them with his own eyes.

He ducked and dodged through the obstacle course that was the previous hall. He stepped over destroyed Spoonheads and the bodies of Ravaged. He needed to get back downstairs, and find Jack and Sarah. Then, if the building wasn't rubble by then, set about finding The Corsair. Whatever version this was.

He rushed into the hall segment where the Ravaged had been holding out against the Spoonheads. He had one more thing to grab.

He moved the corpse of a half-Juudon Ravaged, finding the silver Cyberman head underneath it. The Doctor quickly brushed the dirt off of its patchwork face, giving him a shake.

"Handles, you alright?" He shouted. He hoped he hadn't broken him.

"As alright as a severed head can be, yes. Operating at ninety-seven percent power," he gargled a reply.

"Excellent! See? I told you I would come back," The Doctor gave him a slap on the forehead. He tucked the head beneath his arm, and started toward the door.

He jumped as a different figure rushed through, aiming his sonic screwdriver at him. The man too let out a yelp of surprise, fumbling with his glasses in one hand, a thick rod taking up the other.

"You scared the crap out of me!" Charles shouted. His face was covered in dirt and soot. The left sleeve of his lab coat had been torn off completely, and his under shirt had a long, scratch in it.

"So did you! Where's Sarah Jane?" Charles had been with her in the elevator when it fell down the shaft. He had survived, she must have.

"I don't know! We got separated. She was heading this way, I thought I would too, try and find her here."

"Well, she isn't here," the Doctor replied. She was down stairs somewhere. That was his next affair.

"What about Jack?"

"I ain't seen him," Charles answered, "The Epoch Lens. Did you get the piece of the Epoch Lens?" He seemed almost desperate. Obviously, this was important to him.

"No. Morbius got there first."

"Oh, that's just special," replied Charles with a shake of the head.

"We need to get back down stairs, and find Sarah Jane," The Doctor was already heading for the stairs. Charles was right behind him.

"Alright. We need to hurry. I don't know how many more shots from that laser this place can take," Charles replied. The Doctor could feel the whole tower shaking beneath them. There wasn't a lot of time.

"You should get out of here, before it collapses," The Doctor did not want his death on his conscience.

"I've survived worse," Charles argued, as they began their descent.

"I doubt that," The Doctor returned. He was obviously a man of science.

"Well, just the siege of Mechronomus," he bit back. The Doctor stopped in his tracks, whirling around.

"You... your.." he stammered. Another survivor of the Last Great Time War... a Mechromancer.

"That's right," he smirked, though there was no happiness or satisfaction in it. "Trust me, I'm more than equipped for this."

"Were you there when the Ogrons..." The Doctor almost didn't want to ask.

"I was the last defender of Ki-Vita Station." His tone was dark. From his left eye, slid a single tear.

"Your real name isn't Charles then... not if you're the one they named the from that station," the Scotsman was in shock. He knew who he was speaking to now.

"Reaper of the Ogrons, reporting for duty," his teeth were grit, bitterness permeating him. The Doctor knew how he felt. The Time War had a way of doing that. He had heard of this man, a long time ago. He still haunted Ogron folk lore, just as The Oncoming Storm did the Daleks.

"Fair enough... let's go." He put the war out of his head for the moment. Sarah needed him, so did Jack. Before it was too late. The pair of veterans ran for all they were worth the war raging outside and within.


	16. Fall of the Time Lords

"What do I do?" Sarah shouted to The Corsair, looking down at the jagged shard sticking from her side. "Do I pull it out or..." The middle-aged woman held her hands up ineffectively.

She would know what to do if the woman before her was a human. She knew how to treat stab wounds and bullet holes. She could even do emergency, battlefield surgery, if she needed to.

Not on a Time Lord though. Their organ set up was different. More often than not, unless trained to treat Time Lords, doctors would do more harm than good. She knew of one time in particular, a surgeon had killed The Doctor when trying to help him, and caused him to regenerate. She did not want to make the same mistake.

"No... don't touch it," The Corsair replied, sucking her teeth with pain, "it missed everything as far as I can tell. If you pull it out, I'll bleed to death. Two hearts will pump all of my blood out of it like a garden hose." Her breath was short, and her face turning red from agony.

The Time Lady started walking to the door, her pace slow, one hand holding her wound, keeping pressure on it. Sarah Jane kept with her, even though she didn't want her to move at all, lest she push the shrapnel further in. She knew The Corsair would never listen to her, not in a million years.

She saw the woman glance at her gun, laying on the ground in pieces. Shaking her head, she continued for the door.

"We need to get you back to your TARDIS," Sarah was not ashamed to admit, she was scared. She knew what happed when Time Lords regenerated. She didn't want to see that happen to her.

They walked out into the dim hall, back the way they came.

"No time. We'll never get there before this whole place come... arrrrrggh," she doubled over suddenly. Sarah rushed to her side. Putting both hands on her shoulders, stopping her from tumbling over. She couldn't go anywhere in her condition.

"What if I just..." The Corsair stood, back straight, a pained smile. She reached out her hand, placing it on Sarah's cheek.

"How did you get so brave?" There were tears in her eyes, "you're not going anywhere. You're not sacrificing yourself for me." Sarah did not see another way then if she went down and got her TARDIS by herself.

She watched the Time Lady slip her hand into the pocket of her shirt, pulling out a small smartphone. She slid her finger across it.

"I need your sonic screwdriver. I can't concentrate enough to use my contacts." Sarah quickly nodded, pulling her tool from her jacket pocket.

"I didn't know you had sonic contacts," she murmured, handing it to The Corsair. She thumbed the controls, pointing the blue, light-up head at the screen.

"They're uncomfortable. Like having sand in your eyes all day," she mumbled in reply, a sharp whine escaping.

"Why not use glasses?" Sarah pointed out. Probably a bad time, she realized. The Time Lady smirked, and shook her head.

"What is it with you people wanting me to wear glasses?" She took another sharp breath.

"What are you doing? Calling your TARDIS?" The Doctor could do that remotely with the key when the need was great enough. If she did that, they could look for Jack and The Doctor.

"No, Jack." The Corsair replied.

"Jack?" She knew Jack? Since when?

"I kinda' LoJacked his Vortex Manipulator when we met... get it? LoJack?" Sarah shook her head at the pun, but also her plan. It wouldn't work.

"Charles said this place has an Anti-Shift Generator. We can't use a Vortex Manipulator to get in or out." They were trapped. They had to think of something else.

"The Daleks knocked that out with their first volley," she argued, "just trust me." Sarah truthfully had no other alternative but to do so.

"Where did you guys land this time?" she abruptly asked, "on the cliff or down the hill from the sulfur lake?"

"Sulfur lake..." Sarah replied. What did she mean, 'this time?'

"That's what I thought. Only landed up there once..." she muttered. The sonic screwdriver warbled again, with her shaking her phone.

"Alright... I think that worked," she finally said, handing the tool back to Sarah.

"What did you do?" Sarah was getting antsy. She could feel the tower swaying with every shot of that gun outside. The entire structure was probably compromised. She didn't want to die here, and she admitted that. Not with Morbius on the loose. Not with children back on Earth that still needed her.

"Remotely sent coordinates to Jack's Vortex Manipulator. All he'll need to do is press the button. And I sent my TARDIS into orbit. It's time to come with you, I need to explain a lot to a lot of people."

She wondered what she meant by that. How much was she really involved in? Just the Great Intelligence? Or even more. Did The Doctor know about any of this?

The Corsair let out a tired sounding breath, scrunching her face in pain. "It's been awhile since I got stabbed."

"Really? It's happened before?" Sarah Jane was truthfully unsure what to say to such a comment. That was probably not it.

"Oh yeah, it's how I died the second time," she maneuvered her hand around the wound a bit, peeking at it, before pressuring it again, "Although, I did regenerate into a woman for the first time after that, so I suppose it was for the best."

"That must have been strange." Sarah could not really imagine waking up and suddenly being the opposite gender.

"Not as much as you would think, I..."

Her thought was interrupted, as a flash of purple caught her eye. She looked up at the ceiling, from where it came. It appeared to be portal, lined with a sticky, purple substance. She could vaguely see into the upper floor, before he dropped down through.

Sarah recognized his pale flesh immediately, despite now being clothed in a Revolutionary War era style coat. She spotted a blackened wound on his left bicep, certainly courtesy of a laser. It couldn't have done him any good, and she wondered how he got it. Had he run into Jack or The Doctor already? The gateway above disappeared behind him, just as quickly as it had manifested. She saw Morbius raise his pistol to fire, and she raised her screwdriver.

He hadn't had the time to truly aim his gun, his shot skimming wide into the wall. Sarah's screwdriver warbled it's reply, and she hoped her aim was true.

She knew it was when he attempted to fire again. In an explosion of yellow sparks, it misfired, falling apart. He cursed, and raised a second, stranger-looking gun.

She didn't have time to deactivate that one, as it's silent, purple shot sped toward her feet.

"Sorry love, this is between us Time Lords," she heard Morbius laugh, and suddenly she was falling. She looked down as the floor speed to meet her.

With a dull, painful thump, she landed on her backside. She looked up, the portal she fell through disappearing before her eyes.

The Corsair was too injured to fight him. She was too injured to even move. She was alone with a sociopath. Sarah, gun in hand, and sonic screwdriver in the other, ran. She had to get to her before it was too late.

* * *

Jack stood with his back against the stairwell wall, catching his breath. Bullets fired out from the hall to his left, courtesy of the Ravaged inside. He checked the laser rifle he had salvaged from one of the TWCA soldiers. It had barely any power left, and he had no spare power packs. He would need to pick his shots wisely.

That was unfortunate, considering that there were about seven Ravaged attacking him. He could only go down the hall; the stairs were melted into utter ruin, though it looked more like it was from a rocket than Davros' laser. Regardless, it was impossible to go up this way. He could only hope the other stairwell was still intact.

He peeked around the corner, at the attacking Ravaged. He aimed his gun at one, and pulled the trigger. His laser was true, hitting the half Gastropod in its slug-like chest. He ducked back as a hail of rounds came his way. There was a Ravaged with an Ak-74 further down the hall. He really didn't want to get shot by that; he had been hit by that round once before. It was not a pleasant experience.

He was up to floor ten. He had fallen all the way to the bottom. He was still angry. Angry, not only that Morbius had gotten the drop on him, but that he had failed at his job. Both of them. He had left The Doctor, as The Corsair had told him not to do. He had not reached Sarah, as he had promised.

He blind fired a pair of shots around the corner, a returning laser blast warping the metal next to his face. He was getting nowhere. How had this gone so bad? Daleks, Morbius, Spoonheads... he had never imagined two days ago he would even be thinking that.

He was about to turn and fire again, when a loud ping came from his Vortex Manipulate. He looked down at it, a small green light now blinking on it. First he was confused, then a broad smile spread across his face. It was working.

He was about to begin inputting coordinates. He flipped a switch, and was instead, with a blinding flash, flying through the Time Vortex.

He did not know what had happened. At first, he thought it was a malfunction. It was not unheard of; Manipulators malfunctioned all the time. It seemed too deliberate however, and too convenient. Was it The Corsair? Or The Doctor perhaps?

With a sudden jolt, he was slammed face first into a wall. A dark blue wall. As he took a step back, he realized it was the TARDIS.

He was outside, near the sulfur lake. The sky above was eclipsed by the Dalek capital ship, its lights spinning malevolently. The Time War Containment Authority smoked near it, filled with molten holes and melted gouges from Davros' war machine.

On the tower's other side was Morbius' TARDIS. The monolith glowed with Time Lord symbols, his prominent, dominant statue seeming to stare down at him. It made him angry just looking at it.

He had never been happier to see the blue police box. He yanked open the door, glaring at the amber-tinged console within. He hurried, slamming the door behind him. He hoped he could locate The Doctor, or Sarah Jane, fast. It was a sentient machine. It should be able to just... track him? It was shocking how little he actually knew about a machine he had spent so much time in.

He marched down the stairs, and started at the controls. He hoped to God, if there was one, that he was doing this right. He first yanked the screen over, flipping a switch to turn it on. He then began pressing buttons and flipping knobs. One was for Vortex Recoil. Another was for a Localized Continuum Jump. He rushed around the other side, realizing that he had forgotten the Flux Inhibitors and the Ionized Engine Optimizer. Without that, he would probably smash into a wall.

Now he had to figure out where The Doctor and Sarah Jane were. He wished he had The Doctor. It would make it so much easier. The floor where the Epoch Lens was located was where he planned to start. He would go down from there. He was bound to run into him.

"Now look, I know you and I have had our differences," he said to the time machine. Most people did not understand that it was a sentient being. He did more than most. It had once been so spooked by his presence it ran all the way to the death of the universe. He did not want that to happen now. "But if you flip out, everyone is going to die. Understand?" He stared up at the amber time rotator, almost expecting an answer.

She wouldn't give one. He knew that. She preferred to remain enigmatic. He did not know if it would work, but he placed his hand on the lever. Shutting his eyes, he pulled it back.

He heard it rev into a worping grind, and he nodded.

"I'm coming Doctor... I'm coming." He hoped he wasn't already too late. If he was, they were all doomed.

* * *

The Corsair stared at Morbius as he grinned at her. His glowing eyes were wide with madness, as he ground his teeth back and forth in anticipation. He holstered his portal gun, The Periphery Omega if she recalled it correctly. He started slowly toward her, fists balled.

The pain was tearing though her side. It felt like a thousand pieces of glass were inside her. She had lied to Sarah. She had no idea if her organs were slashed or punctured. Every breath was filled with searing pain. It was so searing she could hardly think.

And now she would have to fight. This had never happened before. Never had she run into Morbius here, or now. He had also never received a burn like the one on his arm before. That was definitely from a Spoonhead's face laser. She had acquired that exact wound once herself. She had certainly not been filled with glass before either though. This was new territory.

She had met Morbius before however. She knew how much he loved combat. Loved murder. Especially with his bare hands. She knew that from personal experience. He had killed her before, in the third universe she had broken into. Beaten her into regeneration. One of the more brutal ways she went.

She took her hand from her wound, immediately feeling the painful heat. She wiped the sticky blood on her kilt. Balling up her fists, she shuffled forward.

"The Great Intelligence wants me to kill you. It's a shame... you are very beautiful," he almost flirted. It was nauseating. However, he had allied with The Intelligence. That had only happened a handful of times. "Perhaps if we make some sort of arrangement..."

"Not on your life cupcake," she spat at his feet. He only smirked.

"Fine, the way of pain," he stalked forward.

"Wow, going to beat up a woman. What a tough guy you are," she taunted. She was in no position to.

"You may expect me to show you mercy, but I assure you, I will not," replied Morbius.

"Same to you," she took another step. The glass was pushing in every time, prodding painfully. She couldn't fight with it in there. She hadn't lied to Sarah Jane about that; she was going to bleed out if she took it out.

It was either that, or be killed by Morbius. He might be wounded but she was worse so. She was not regenerating today. She was not going to change. Jack would come. She just had to survive.

She gripped the shard of glass, and with a sudden shot of excruciating agony, yanked it out. She swooned for a moment, but shook it away. The pain was still there, but lessened. She could feel the wound pulsing, the blood running freely.

She could fight. That was what mattered. Blood be damned.

"You want a fight?" She shouted. She knew her voice was shaking. Pain and fear mixed together, and the sudden rush of adrenalin. "Come on then you gutless slug, fight like a man!"

With that Morbius charged. She was faster, flipping a switch on her gauntlet, and firing the hook low. It caught Morbius off guard, the cord wrapping around his leg. She yanked it, flinging him to the ground, flipped the other switch, reeling him in like a fish. He sped towards her, a look of horror on his face for the first time. As he came to her she kicked out her foot, smashing him to a stop, her boot landing square into his nose.

The hook clicked back into her wrist launcher, but Morbius was already moving. He threw out his leg as he rolled to a crouch, attempting to trip her. She had hoped the velocity would knock him out. Instead his scars were just open. He was stronger than she remembered.

She barely stumbled back out of the way, her wound not allowing her full movement. Morbius lept to his feet, immediately coming with an over hand left. She was still faster, intercepting the punch with her gauntlet. She knew she never would have done that if he weren't burned. His arm was stiff and probably weak. She came back with a stiff hook, of her own, but he ducked back. She connected with a straight to his chin, snapping his head back.

She could feel the weakness in her muscles when she connected. Blood loss. Her adrenaline couldn't make up for it. She ducked under a right of his, and slipped passed a powerful uppercut that would have taken her head off. She countered quickly, hitting his burn with her next attack. With a surprised yelp, he recoiled, though only slightly. She jumped on the opportunity with a jab to his throat.

She heard him choke for a moment, and tried to capitalize on it. Her flurry was brief; smacking a hook across his chin, one to his abdomen, a third to his weakened arm, and landing a kick to the back of his knee. He stumbled, and she meant to land another heavy blow.

He caught that one instead, deflecting it aside, and standing straight. He lashed out with the palm of his hand, but she was lighter, and quicker on her feet. Spinning aside, she kicked hard into his stomach.

He ate the blow, grabbing her leg. With one motion, he yanked her to the floor. She landed hard, her wound feeling like she had been stabbed over again. The wind left her lungs, but she couldn't lay there.

He tried to dive atop her, but she already fired her hook up into the ceiling. It broke through the tile, grabbing something, and she shot to her feet kicking him in the face as she did.

She landed, and Morbius was doubled over. She was not wasting this opportunity. She rained down as many blows as she could, unleashing everything she could to put him down. She knew her punches were weak, but they were numerous. She could no longer tell how many times she hit him.

Morbius was backing up, on the retreat, every hit connecting. His scars were split wide open, and she kept coming.

He finally managed a defense, blocking one punch, and returning with a heavy body-shot of his own. She couldn't move fast enough, his fist colliding with her stab wound, hard.

All the power was stolen from her, and she fell back. Gunshot like pain tore through her, her vision flickering. She stumbled into the wall, sliding down it. Everything screamed in her head to fight. To stand. To do anything but lay there.

Yet her body wouldn't let her. He stood over her, looking down with a mad smile. This was it. She was dead. He was going to kill her. Again.

Suddenly, with a flash of blue, a laser erupted through his shoulder. He stumbled forward, a second ripping though his side, and a third flying just passed his head. He fell to all fours with a scream, his breathing labored.

Behind him stood Sarah Jane, Jack's Villengard Special smoking in her hand.

"Get away from her you wretch!" The Corsair thought she heard her say. Morbius replied something snide, but she couldn't hear him. Her hearing was fading out. She laid her hand on her wound, as if it mattered. Another flash of blue came his way, but the purple portal had already appeared beneath him. He disappeared from view, and it closed behind him.

Sarah ran to her, kneeling down.

"Oh my God!" She shouted. She held her hands before her, not knowing what to do. There was nothing to do. Nothing. She couldn't get help in time, and she may have lost too much energy to regenerate. She held up her hand to Sarah instead.

"Don't be sad, Sarah, it's alright." Everything ended. Then she heard it, the grinding of a TARDIS.

She saw it materialize, that blue police box. He was here. He had come for her. Sarah ran to it as the doors were flung open. Her vision was fuzzy, but she could make out a burly form in the navy coat, who ran to her immediately. Two others were back there; a tall, skinny, old one that could only be The Doctor. The other was burly too, in white, a mace in his hands. She couldn't see that one. Not clearly.

She felt herself swept off the floor by muscular arms. She could smell him, that musky, sweat that Jack always smelled like. A smell she hated to love.

"You'll be alright soldier, just stay with me," he sounded so far away, but she could make out his lips moving. She tried to move her head up, but she couldn't make her body do it. She owed him that kiss, before she died. He deserved to know what she felt, and that she wasn't just her using him. That he was firmly between those two hearts in her chest.

Everything just went black instead.

 _(Author's Note: So, how much is everyone screaming at me right now? Will The Corsair survive? Will she regenerate? We'll see, won't we? Thanks to my beta MirrcatBlackwood for helping me when I was trying to figure this chapter out. There were phone calls, believe me. Lol Take care everyone. And stay tuned)_


	17. Mortos Vearas

_(Author's Note: First and foremost, Happy New Year everyone! I'm excited for 2017 to be over. It has been a tough year for me but here I am. Still alive. Ok so, a few things. I would like to reiterate that I will continue this series with the 12th Doctor, regardless of his departure from the show. In a way, I see it as my duty to give 12 more storys now that his are over. Although I must admit I am excited for 13, as the first woman to play the role. Now, story stuff._

 _This is a mostly informative chapter, that sums up everything that has gone on thus far. Not only that, but we're going to get a bit of backstory on a few things and people. I would like to thank_ _Marcus S. Lazarus for his insightful comments. They helped me in this chapter. I hope everyone enjoys this. See you all soon!)_

"You need to get that woman to the infirmary, right now!" Charles shouted, dropping his mace to the TARDIS floor. Sarah slammed the doors shut, as The Doctor rushed in behind Jack.

Jack cradled a pretty young woman, with flaming red hair in his arms. The Doctor could see blood dripping from her side. She had obviously been stabbed. She was peaked and drawn, her eyes closed. Morbius? Did he do this? Perhaps, but he didn't have time to think it out.

"I know!" Jack shouted back, he ran across the console room, heading for one of the adjoining halls. The Doctor was right behind him, with Charles following.

"I need to do surgery, immediately!" Charles was already stripping off his lab coat, "What sort of equipment do you have on this ship?"

"The best." The Doctor always kept the medical facilities well stocked, just encase. Just for things like this.

"I don't know if you can. She isn't a normal woman!" They turned into the hall. Not a normal woman? The Doctor was getting that feeling. He knew who this was. A name he heard from Jack, then the Great Intelligence.

"I know exactly what she is. I can hear her heartbeats from here, which are slowing by the minute." The Doctor realized they weren't moving, not with everyone here. They were just sitting there, in the middle of the Time War Containment Authority which was slowly crumbling around them. He whipped around to Sarah.

"Can you get us into orbit?" She had traveled with him so much, she knew the basics of flying the TARDIS.

"I think so..." she halfheartedly nodded. She could do it. She was more competent then she realized.

"You can do it, I have faith in you," he replied. She nodded, turned on her heel and ran back down the hall.

"Who is she?" The Doctor finally asked hurriedly. He had a feeling he knew already.

"This is The Corsair," Jack replied, "I'll explain later." He now turned to Charles, "Are you capable of doing surgery on a Time Lord?"

Jack would need to explain that. He knew The Corsair, and all of the Time Lords regeneration's, both male and female. She wasn't one of them. Not as far as he knew.

"I was a medic in the Time War. I'm familiar with meatball surgery," he replied grimly.

"I'm not sure that's the best course..." Jack was showing reservations.

"Then she bleeds to death. She's already on the verge of complete shock, if she hasn't gone into it already. She has probably lost so much blood that she can't regenerate."

Jack's head shot to The Doctor now. "Is that true? She won't be able to regenerate?" The Doctor nodded. Jack's eyes were frantic. He obviously cared for this woman, deeply. Sugar coating it would do him no good.

"It is very likely she can't. Her body may be too weak. Surgery may be the only way. She may regenerate after it's over just from the trauma," The Doctor was totally honest. Lying to Jack would do no good. The most bitter truth was always better then the sweetest lies.

Jack kept his composure, but the devastation showed in his eyes. How well did he actually know her? Especially for Jack, of all people to care this much.

The Doctor felt the TARDIS shake, and start to grind. Rough take off but they were up.

They arrived at the med bay doors, and they shuffed open automatically. The room ahead was filled with shelves of medical equipment. Almost anything someone could ask for; from simple scalpels and defibrillators, to high tech omni-gel guns and precision lasers. There were immersion tubes on one wall, and an operating table in the room's center. He would have everything he needed.

"Give her to me," Charles ordered. Jack hesitated, but did as the Mechromancer asked, gently laying her into his arms. The Doctor saw her stir; that was a good sign.

"Don't open these doors, this needs to be as sterile as possible, and try to fly nice," Charles had a tense edge to his voice. The Doctor knew she was in good hands, but things still looked dire. Yet, there was hope. As long as there was breath, there was hope.

"Save her..." Jack was looking him in the eyes. If he could will it so, The Doctor had the feeling he would. Charles returned a determined glare.

"I'll do what I can. I used to save lives more than take them. Let's see if I still have it in me." With that statement, the doors chuffed closed.

Now that it was quiet, with no explosions or bleeding Time Lords, the feelings started to leak into The Doctor's chest. How could it have all gone so wrong? Morbius acquired another piece of the Epoch Lens. He had two now. He had allied with The Great Intelligence, who was building a galaxy-annihilating army. The Trickster was back with a vengeance. The Daleks doing what they do best, but now against one another as well.

He was unsure how he felt. Discouraged was not accurate. He still felt the drive to dive in. Burst in the front. Save people. Stop evil. Yet rage existed there too. It boiled just beneath his skin. Rage at them all; Daleks, Trickster, The Great Intelligence, and Morbius. Rage at what they did. How many people died today? How many lives were lost? For what? What was the purpose?

It was senseless. All of it. They just killed and killed and killed. Just cogs in a murder machine. A machine he could never seem to stop for any period of time.

Rage at himself. He should be doing more. He should never have let it get to this point. He should have seen it all coming, and stopped it. He was reacting, not anticipating. He should have stopped them before they began.

He could feel it though, deep down. That familiar little glimmer. Hope. He still had it. He had his friends; Jack... Sarah. He was watching a man, someone who was set to imprison all of them only a short time ago, attempting to save the life of a woman he's never even met. A selfless act, for no reason other than it needed to be done.

He said nothing to Jack as he walked passed him. He couldn't just stand here. They needed to formulate a plan. Morbius was the most pressing threat. They needed to get to the next piece before he did.

Sarah was in the console room. Sweet Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane who was brave and kind. The Sarah he asked too much of. Sarah who was the one piece of sanity in all of this. Who was his best friend no matter the odds or the stakes.

The silence was deafening as he and Jack walked back to the control room. He wanted to jump down his throat. This woman, who claims to be The Corsair... was this what he was hiding from him? What he was being so shifty about that day in Outlandish Oddities?

What if this woman was somehow The Corsair? He knew The Corsair to be dead, or he was supposed to have been. So was Morbius. Time Lords had a way of boomeranging back. He just didn't know.

He walked into the console room, and Sarah was waiting for him. She gave him a tired smile, as she trotted up to him, arms out. He awkwardly accepted her hug, standing stick straight. Was he supposed to hug back? He wasn't sure how appropriate it was in this situation, with everything that had gone on.

"I'm glad you're alright Doctor," she smiled, letting go. She had picked up Charles' disgarded weapon, a Tinitrus if he recalled correctly, and leaned it agaist the rail.

"You too Sarah," he nodded. She was always so warm, and comforting. He moved around to the console, flipping a pair of switches and turning a knob. They were in orbit, at a forty three degree angle. He didn't tell her of course. No reason to make her feel bad for a slight fowl up.

"The Epoch Lens... did you get to the piece before Morbius?" she asked earnestly. He hated to disappoint her.

"He got away with it. He made an alliance with The Great Intelligence, there was nothing I could do." Failure. He hated how it tasted. Then he thought of The Trickster.

He should tell them. The Trickster was one of Sarah Jane's oldest enemies, and one of the most dangerous. She should know that he was back.

Yet, he did not tell her. She did not need that on her mind. She was dealing with enough,and The Trickster was the one being she was afraid of. He needed her at the top of her abilitys, not worrying about a temporal maniac. If they defeated Morbius, the Trickster's plan would be foiled regardless. If the time came, he would tell her. Now was not that time.

"I... I shot him. Morbius," she seemed a bit disturbed by the way her voice sounded. He understood it. Sarah was strong and tough, but she was also gentle and nurturing. She was not someone who easily killed or harmed others. It was part of what he loved about her. Daleks or Cybermen or Weeping Angles were easier. They weren't remotely human anymore. Nether were The Ravaged. They were like zombies. She always opted for mercy first but wouldn't hesitate.

Morbius though, no matter how monstrous, was still a man. He lived and breathed and felt. It made it different. Someone with a face and eyes. Eyes that showed hurt or pain.

"I had no choice, he was going to kill The Corsair," she continued.

"He deserved it, you did the right thing. Good riddance," Jack huffed.

"No... I don't think I killed him. I know I hit him at least twice. Then he disappeared through a... portal?" She seemed to ask. The Doctor nodded.

"He has the Periphery Omega. It's a portal gun," he didn't feel like explaining it in detail again. Morbius was probably alive. It took alot to kill a normal Time Lord.

"He got away but... he was definitely hurt," she seemed to change gears a little, "Doctor, I have something I need to tell you. While I was with The Corsair, I heard about The Great Intelligence's plan. He's..." he held up his hand.

"I know," was his soft reply, "he has allied the Daleks and The Cybermen together." He had once thought it was impossible. Two "superior" races. It did not bode well, for anyone.

"That's why Davros was after us, Doctor. When he was accusing you of creating The Heretic Code, he had mistaken the Great Intelligence's work for yours." He was not surprised.

"The Heretic Code is what The Corsair is fighting. It's why she's here," Jack finally brought up. The Doctor would address him soon enough. He was trying to decide what to say, and how.

"She thinks she found a way to stop it," Sarah Jane leaned her back against the console stiffly. She was obviously fatigued, "I didn't quite understand all of it. She found out that it's being... transmitted. If she can find who is transmitting it, and corrupt the code, the Heretics will go back to normal. Does that make any sense to you, Doctor?" The Time Lord nodded.

"It does. Daleks are part machine, and their memories are altered. They have blockers in place to erase things they've seen."

"What kind of things?" Jack questioned.

"Good things. Happy things. Beautiful things. Stars being born, children playing, sunshine, warmth; anything that makes life worth living. It's so all they remember is hate, war, despair and death. The only thing they know is murder in a cold iron cage. Memories can be implanted and removed at will. Memories to make them hate and kill anything that isn't a Dalek." In a way he felt pity for them. It was all they knew.

It still did not excuse what they did.

"What if those are removed?" Sarah asked. He knew what she was thinking. He thought it once himself. There was no saving a Dalek.

"They either reject the good and continue to hate on their own, or they go insane," replied The Doctor darkly. He leaned against the console, and rubbed his forehead. He knew how he had done it now. It all made sense.

Jack was getting it too, he could tell by his next statement.

"So they're essentially brainwashed," he nodded, his dark eyes narrowed off into space.

"This is not the first time Davros has lost control of his children though," he remembered the Dalek Civil War well.

"It isn't?" Sarah seemed genuinely supprised.

"No. Daleks may be brainwashed but they see themselves as the pinical of evolution. They are supiror to everything non-Dalek. By default, they see Davros as inferior."

"Then why follow him?" Jack asked, "why not just nuke the old so-and-so?"

"They keep him because he is a master stratigist. He is in some ways, to them, like a pet cat who cansometimes regurgitate plots of galactic domination instead of hair."

"So, The Heritics not seeing The Great Intelligence as inferior..." Jack trailed.

"That's how you hijack an army of serial killers. It sounded like some kind of virus, or disease." Sarah Jane answered. The Doctor pointed with a smile.

"That, right there, is why Davros is panicking. He's losing his soldiers little by little, to something that isn't even a Dalek. The Great Intelligence has managed to do something even Davros was not able to do, no matter how hard he tried. He made them see something other than themselves as an equal." It was an insidiously ingenious plot. He had to admit, The Great Intelligence had really pulled a rabbit out of his ever-present hat. They would need to find a way to stop it. If the original Dalek programming was put back, they would go back to killing Cybermen, as well as everything else. His army would kill itself. It was the obvious solution.

"Is this information reliable?" The Doctor was not about to just run off on half-baked goose chases.

"I was with her when she interrogated a prisoner in the Authority building. It was a Dalek from something called the Volatix Cabal. The original creators." The Doctor hung his head, shaking it.

It was like old home week. They really were all crawling out of the woodwork; all of his dead enemies, back to say hello. He had fought a few of their cells in the Time War. He had killed those cells. Creative Daleks... killers all the same. Capable of the worst atrocities, like every Dalek.

He didn't feel the need to explain it or who they were. A relic of the past, like everything else in the vaults. Something better left buried in the ashes.

"It's credible." Was his only response. They had a serious problem on their hands. One he would need to address soon. But first things first. Jack.

"Jack... it's time to come clean. You know more than what you've told me. It's time to cut the lies," he was forceful but not threatening. Despite his anger at Jack for hiding things, he was his friend. He owed him a great deal over the years. He had rescued him today. It was just time to lay all the cards on the table.

Jack took a deep breath, and began.

"What I told you was true. I was investigating The Great Intelligence's break-in at The Black Archive. I was abducted by Davros."

"Why would he abduct you?" Sarah Jane asked, surprise in her brown eyes.

"He thought I knew about The Doctor and The Heretic Code. I didn't but he locked me up anyway. That was when The Corsair showed up." There it is. The Doctor could tell he knew her. No one reacted like that for a stranger.

"She broke me out and told me things. Showed me things. Things that may happen. Things that could happen."

"What kind of things? What you would have for breakfast tomorrow? Did she break out the Tarot cards and Ouija boards?" The Doctor wiggled his fingers at him with a sarcastic grin. He had met people with foreknowledge before. Sometimes it was right. Other times it was hokum and fear mongering. Most of the time the latter.

"No! Your death!" Snapped the Time Agent. "She sent me back to Vastra to find you and protect you. I've worked with her off and on since. She told me about the Heretic Code, and the Cybermen alliance with The Daleks."

"Wait... you knew and didn't say anything?" Sarah took a step back. The Doctor, on the other, took one forward.

"You've known this whole time and didn't tell me? Jack..." he wasn't angry. No, he was more disappointed.

"She told me it was for your own good. She said if I told you, you would ignore Morbius, and address that instead. He would then assemble the Epoch Lens and destroy you!" He was desperately trying to convince him. Or was he really trying to convince himself?

"And how could she possibly know that? She's never even met me!" The presumption was amazing. People were always trying to anticipate him; Unit, The Shadow Proclamation, the Daleks, the Silence. They were usually wrong.

"Wait, I thought you were friends with The Corsair?" Sarah's brows were furrowed in confusion.

"I was, but I've seen all of his regenerations! And that," he pointed violently toward the door, "is not one of them!"

"I can explain that too! If you'll stop being so stubborn and listen for ten seconds!" The exasperated Captain yelled back. The angry Scot did not back down.

"What did she tell you? And how do you know it's the truth?" The Doctor glared, "Did you question it at all? Or did you just decide shes was pretty and leave it there?" He knew how Jack was, and what his weaknesses were.

"I know she's a Time Lord. I've felt her heartbeats. Aside from that..." Jack sighed, "I don't have proof, but I trust her. I don't know why, but I do."

"That's not always wise Jack," The Doctor replied. Did The Doctor himself know anything for sure? No. All he knew was there was a woman, a Time Lord, in the other room, claiming to be an old friend, when he knew she wasn't.

Much to his surprise, it was Sarah Jane who came to Jack's defense.

"You can't fault him for that. We do the same for you." she replied, then turned to Jack, "What is her explanation?"

"She... she is from an alternate reality. A separate universe," Jack confessed.

"Oh come on Jack!" The Doctor came back, in utter disbelief. Did he really believe that? "You know that can't be true! Travel between parallel worlds has been completely unattainable since the loss of the Time Lords!"

"I believe her!" Jack defended. "The universes that she has left, when she left them, were collapsing. The walls between realities are thin when that is happening. Right?"

"Yes... but," The Doctor started, but Jack continued.

"Then why is it not possible?"

"He has a point Doctor, you said you dropped Gallifray into a pocket dimension once," Sarah Jane's eyes were narrowed and her lips pursed in thought.

"That's different from breaking the boundary from one universe to another! Let alone multiple times." The Doctor defended.

"But it's possible? Isn't it?" He could tell how much Jack wanted to believe her. But could he?

"In theory. But it is unlikely," The Doctor admitted.

"It's how she knows things. The Great Intelligence, the Cybermen, the Daleks, the Heretic Code. She's been doing this over and over again, trying to stop him from destroying everything, and failing."

The Doctor turned around shaking his head. He no longer knew what to think. Was this woman really from another reality? Had she watched The Great Intelligence destroy universes multiple times? Or was she lying? Was she even a Time Lord, let alone The Corsair?

There was really only one way to tell. If Charles was able to save her life, he needed to talk to her. Not Jack. Not Sarah. The Corsair. If that was truly who she was.

"Once Charles is finished, if she survives, I'm going to take it up with her. We'll see what she says. I'll get to the bottom of it, one way or another." He saw Jack nod. He knew that Jack thought he was against her. It was quite the opposite. He was being careful. Their lives, maybe even the lives of the entire universe, were on a knife edge. He did not want to jump into anything, one way or another.

Speaking of Charles," Jack started, walking his way around the console, closer to The Doctor and Sarah, "why the hell is he still here? And why does he know how to operate on a Time Lord?"

"He told me he fought in the Time War," Sarah added, looking to Jack, then The Doctor, "he was something called a Mechromancer."

There weren't many survivors of the Time War, did you know him?" The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. That... was a long story.

"I didn't know him. But I know of him, much in the same way he knows of me," The Scotsman answered.

"I've never heard of Mechromancers before." The Doctor wasn't surprised, even though Sarah Jane was more knowledgeable than most humans.

"They're like the Time Lords, they're gone. There were only about three hundred survivors, but even most of them did not make it in the end. He may be one of the last ones."

"What is he then? Are they anything like the Technomancers?" Jack asked. The Doctor shook his head.

"If you ask him that, you'll probably leave that conversation with a few less teeth. No, but it's the same cluster of planets. The Technomancers relied on drawn power from creatures called Horned Ones, almost giving them a form of magic, for lack of a useful term."

"Mechromancers, on the other hand, mastered robotic technology. Their society was so technologically advanced it even surpassed the Time Lords in some areas. They seamlessly melded robotic body parts and flesh in ways even Cybermen or Ice Warriors couldn't."

"So they're a race of cyborgs," Jack concluded with an eye roll.

"It went beyond that. They would meld blood and bone into the metal so it was truly like a new limb." The Doctor explained.

"Charles showed me that," Sarah exclaimed, "his bones were partially metal, but still had veins and blood inside the steel shell." The Doctor started typing on the console's keyboard, then pulled the screen over. With the click of a button, a skeletal figure appeared, it's right arm, up over the pectoral and left leg to the knee, glowed red.

"I did a scan on him as he came in. Some of the Mechromancers modified themselves so much, they were more machine then man. It looks like he only replaced an arm and a foot."

"Got to be a pain to go through airport security," Jack snickered. The Doctor just glared at him, blue eyes boring.

"He said he fought on his home world, Mechronomus, against the Ogrons and the Daleks..." Sarah trailed. She sounded upset. She was always so empathetic toward others.

"He told me who he was, and where he fought," The Doctor sighed. He was going to need to tell them all of it.

"The Mechromancers were like Time Lords, they lived a long time . They didn't regenerate, but they were more durable."

"I watched him get shot, and he doesn't even seem hurt," Sarah added.

"He isn't. They heal quickly. Part of it is a natural ability, part of it is their cybernetics. They made some of the best soldiers imaginable. Except their society was peaceful."

"Seriously? He doesn't seem the type," Jack seemed skeptical.

"They could have taken over half of the universe before any one stopped them, if they wanted to. Their planet was a place of peace. They only had a military to defend themselves from others. Crime was almost non-existent."

"What happened to him then?" Jack snorted. The Doctor narrowed his eyes. He had no idea, and his lack of empathy bothered him.

"The Time War, that's what. The Mechromancers got drug into it when the Daleks destroyed their moon, Shura, after they refused to aid them in their battle against the Time Lords. They offered their services, which the Time Lords accepted."

"They didn't act as soldiers though; there were only a battalion or two that actually fought. Most acted as combat medics and surgeons."

"Did it help the Time Lords?" Sarah asked.

"Oh indeed!" The Doctor pushed the screen back. It was bothering him. "They were miracle workers. They would heal Time Lords on their finial regeneration's, or stop others from regenerating all together. It didn't matter how terrible the battle was. They would stay, right in the middle and heal people."

"I'm sure Davros didn't like that," groused Sarah. She knew how this ended, as everything in the Time War had.

"No, he didn't. He started attacking the Time Lord's allies, hoping to isolate them. He discovered what a threat the Mechromancers were when he sent his "normal" The Doctor air quoted, "planet destroying force there and it was repelled."

"He started focusing on the Mechromancers after that. They beat him back at every turn, until he finally decided to throw everything he had at them. He sent almost the entire Dalek armada to Mechronomus, and nearly the entire Ogron army."

"Ogrons are stupid,"Jack snorted. He was right; they were brutish and ape like. They were also violent, and had numbers.

"It doesn't matter when there's millions of them," The Doctor replied darkly. "Even the Mechromancers couldn't stand against the combined army's. Davros burned that planet to dust and the constant shelling left it weak. The Daleks flew in with Ogron reinforcements, and steamrolled over every military outpost the planet possessed. Once the planet's spine was broken, Davros pulled out, and left it to the Ogrons."

"With no military left, it was effectively a planet full of doctors, women and children. The Ogrons did horrific things to those people, things I dare not speak about. They were intent on genocide, and did it the cruelest ways possible. Some of the Mechromancers tried to evacuate. Not many, if any, made it. Eventually, they bombed the planet's core and incinerated it, once they were done playing." He hung his head. This was still hard to talk about, after all these years. His hands were shaking, but he tried to quell it.

He still regretted Mechronomus. He hadn't made it in time to save them. He had been too busy with the fighting on Lujhimine. He should have been able to stop them.

"Shortly after was the Fall of Arcadia. And the end of the war."

"Where is Charles in all of this," Sarah asked. The Doctor looked up, seeing the tears dripping from her eyes. Always so kind. Always.

"He told me he was on a station called Ki-Vita. That was when it all clicked."

"What was that?" Jack asked. He was more somber now. Now he understood.

"It was the largest medical station on the planet," he stood straight, and walked around the console. He flipped a switch, turning on the telepathic circuits. He would need to use those soon.

"After the fall of Mechronomus, there was a story of a surgeon. They say everyone else in that hospital had either been killed in the fighting, or had evacuated. It is said this man stayed, because he had patients that couldn't be moved, and he wouldn't leave them to the mercy, or lack there of, of the Ogrons. He defended that station, by himself. The Ogrons attacked it over and over, only to be pushed back by one man. All of his patients were eventually killed, but he didn't stop fighting. They say he killed so many of them, the Ogrons started fighting each other over which squads would go in next, because it was a death sentence."

"No one knew what happened to him after the fall of Mechronomus. Many believed he died. I always had another theory." He toggled another switch absently.

"What was that?" Sarah questioned.

"The Daleks were annihilated in the final battle of the war. The Ogrons, on the other hand, retreated from the fight. They knew it was a loosing battle, and they left the Daleks to either die or finish the job. It wasn't long after the Ogron elite started dying."

"What do you mean?" asked Sarah.

"Someone started assassinating them. They killed the Commanders, the Generals, the Leaders and Primarchs; if you were an Ogron and were in a position of power during the Time War, you were dead. The Ogrons named the assailant, much how the Daleks called me The Oncoming Storm. They called Mortos Vearas.

"Meaning?" Sarah asked.

"Our Reaper. Reaper of the Ogrons."

"I always believed in the theory that bounced around in that time. The theory that it was the same defender of Ki-Vita Station. That he now wandered the cosmos like a master-less ronin, doling out justice against the killers of his people."

"Eventually, after the hierarchy that had attacked Mechronomus were all dead, the man disappeared as suddenly as he appeared. No one knew where he went, or what happened to him."

"You believe this man... is on board this ship?" Sarah asked, leaning over against the console.

"I do. There is only one man who survived Ki-Vita station," The Doctor nodded.

"But The Corsair being from another universe is too far fetched, right?" Jack snorted. The Doctor narrowed his eyes. He didn't reply. They would find out soon enough, one way or the other. He was done talking.

"We need to find the next piece of the Epoch Lens," The Doctor said, now standing in front of the telepathic circuits, "hopefully before Morbius does, if he's still alive."

"Better sooner than later," Sarah's mouth was still cocked to the side, nervous.

"Agreed." With that he jammed his hands into the milky, white, muck, and waited for the vision.


	18. The Secret Grave

The colorless fog seemed to rise from the floor to meet The Doctor. It swirled around him, blinding the console room from his sight. He shut his eyes, and tried to concentrate. He emptied his mind of everything. The Daleks, Morbius, The Great Intelligence. He thought only of the Epoch Lens. The gun to end all guns. The weapon of megalomaniacs and madman.

First he saw the barrel. It was gripped by a pale, white hand, and torn from his sight. Then came the scope, the jewel lens from which it's name came. It sat there, in it's vault before him. He nearly reached out to it, to grasp it. He knew it was an illusion, yet...

He held it in his hand, lifting it up. Before he could take it, it transformed into sand before him, slipping through his fingers into the mist below. He heard the mocking laughter, the red-eyed madman having his fun.

The darkness slid in tainting everything. The shadows crept up, a tangible evil rising behind him. He turned around, knowing who he would find behind him.

"You cannot win." The voice was silky and smooth, yet the threat in it was obvious. He knew to whom it belonged.

"You have told me that before." he turned around with a snort, "It didn't help you then, and it will not now." The figure was a dark shadow, but he could see the human shape. It wore a black hood, covering what he knew was a featureless face.

"This is not as the other times. He is not like the other petty humans with whom I have made deals. He has no conscience. His will to survive is strong."

"His lack of conscience will be his undoing, like it has been every other time." A lack of empathy and a taste for cruelty were never good traits. Never. The Trickster only laughed.

"He will not do as the others have. He will not revoke the deal." It floated around to his left, coming close to his ear. "How does it feel? To know you will fail. That you are leading them all to their demise? You secretly love it, don't you? That they would die for you." The Doctor waved his hand, the Trickster dissipating, and forming to his right instead.

"If they die, they aren't dying for me. They're dying for an ideal. For freedom from tyranny, yours, Morbius', and things like you." The Trickster slid back, it's laughter again echoing through his head.

"Is that the sweet little lie you tell yourself? The one that allows you to sleep at night?" It mocked.

"No, I don't sleep. Sleep comes easily to the guiltless and the dead," replied the Scottish Time Lord.

"No matter, you will be sleeping very deeply in a few hours," it cooed, beginning to fade. "Remember, four knocks."

It disappeared, like it had never existed at all.

He tried to put the invader out of his head. He needed to concentrate. He voided his mind. He felt himself slip back into the elevated state. He could almost feel the two hemispheres of his brain synchronize. He could see the gun, the second barrel.

The fog lifted around him, transitioning into a dark jungle. He was standing upon a tall hill. It was when he looked down into the valley that he knew where he was.

The metal pyramid rose from the ground, dwarfing all of the trees around it. It glowed bright like fire, even with the plant life snaking up, intent on devouring it. Glowing holes gaped in the side, crumbling into the ruin. At its pinnacle point, he could see the shining diamond. He could feel the electricity through the ground, beneath his feet. It was still giving off power, even after all this time. Was it still growing? Even now?

He wasn't surprised in the slightest by his choice in location. There was always one person he feared would acquire the weapon, more than any other, so he put it in the one place he knew he wouldn't go. Where that man could not go.

His hands twitched, a motion caused by the ship pricking his finger. The TARDIS had just set its course. He slipped back in his mind, and slowly pulled himself out, moving his fingers slowly. The fog returned, then turned to dark instead.

With a jump he yanked his hands from the purple-white goo, the TARDIS' amber time rotator filling his vision. He turned, his blurry vision clearing as he blinked. Sarah was next to him, worried eyes on him, while Jack leaned against the rail near by, waiting.

"Did you see it, Doctor?" She asked hesitantly. He nodded, passing by her. He pulled the main switch on the console. He heard the warping noise, flinging them into the vortex. He checked the screen, seeing the correct coordinates.

Depression weighing on his shoulders. He did not want to go here. Ever. He always knew it existed; though not always where. It was a place of darkness. Morbidity. Of an unavoidable future he would one day cause. His ancient eyes stared off into space for a moment.

It wasn't enough that the past was haunting his every step, every enemy grasping at him from the mist. Now the future was rising to meet him. A future that was rooted in his passed.

He felt the ship stutter to a clunking stop, and he shut his eyes. He took a deep breath, his mouth a straight line. Sarah obviously noticed the strain.

"Are you alright? What's wrong? Where are we?" She asked. He laid his hand on her shoulder instead.

"It will be easier to show you," he sighed. Really, there was nothing easy about this.

"Right, lets be off then," Jack straightened his coat on his shoulders. The Doctor shook his head.

"Your staying here," he pointed to the Time Agent.

"Hey!" Jack returned, insulted, "I know your upset about The Corsair but..."

"It isn't that," The Doctor explained, "if she regenerates, she'll need a friendly face to help her." He always did. It was always an incredibly confusing and jarring experience. It helped to have someone he knew there. Or someone kind. Jack was both to her, he gathered. "Plus there's two strangers in my TARDIS. I really don't want to take the chance of it being stolen."

"Fair enough..." Jack nodded, obviously seeing reason, "how long should I wait for you?"

"If we're not back in a day, then you need to try and hunt down the next part. The last part," The Doctor replied. If they weren't back by then, they were not coming back. They were trapped, or dead.

"I'll do as you ask, but I don't like it." Jack protested. The Doctor nodded. That was all he needed. This was not a mission for Jack Harkness. This was barely a mission for him and Sarah Jane. The Doctor moved towards the door, with her at his heels.

"Stay safe Jack,"she nodded.

"You too sister," he smiled. His smile did not reach his eyes.

He opened the TARDIS doors, and stepped out. He was immediately hit by the oppressive humidity. The steamy air was positively wet, and it felt hotter then the dead of summer. They were surrounded by lush vegetation. Thick trees blocked out the sun, and the ground was a mess of bushes, vines and rocks. Specks of the sun did glow down through gaps in the leaves however, giving some spots almost a holy aura. It was truly a beauty to behold; a lush jungle nearly unspoiled by man or beast.

Exotic birds chirped and cawed in the trees, and the drone of bugs were nearly deafening. He could hear the hoot of primates in the distance. The apes on this planet had six arms. He hoped he and Sarah would see one on their journey. He had the feeling she would like that.

The TARDIS had landed a tad off course, but there was a clear path to his destination. He could make it out in the discoloration of the soil, where people made their pilgrimage to the great structure in the vision. They were few and far between but they existed. None dared go inside. Not even the most devoted. He was alright with the walk. He had time to explain things to Sarah Jane. He needed to do that.

They started walking, silently. He knew the path; despite not remembering it exactly, his subconscious did. He knew where to go.

He walked for around an hour, Sarah was by his side. The ground was rough but not difficult to traverse. In a way, compared to the war zone they had left, it was relaxing. The thoughts of where they were going weighed on him.

He saw Sarah Jane was looking up more than forward. Her eyes were wide, almost reminding him of a child. She had never lost the sense of bewilderment. It was beautiful, and she wore it well.

"Doctor, where are we?" She finally asked, after another half an hour of hiking. He knew she could not contain it forever, and he didn't mind. They were almost there. The valley was only a few yards ahead.

"Huataan, in the outer reaches of the Gemini Rift," he replied. It was a neighbor of the Medusa Cascade. He did not expect her to know that, though.

"That's a very strange name," she gave him a side glace. She knew he was hiding something, he could tell. He may as well just spit it out.

"It translates to grave, or tomb. Because that's what this planet is," he finally sighed. She nearly stopped, staring at him.

"Doctor..."

"There is one place a Time Traveler, people like us, should never go. Will never go, if we are smart. Can not go, without serious repercussions. One place, across all of time, all of space, all of creation." She knew where he was going with this, he could see it in her eyes. He told her this many years ago, when he was that silly fop with a yellow car. "Their own grave."

"Doctor... this isn't..." she left it to hang. He shook his head.

"Mine? No. This is the grave of someone else." He took a deep breath.

"I always feared he would get his hands on a weapon like this. So it makes sense that I would hide it where he would not walk. This man, or sometimes woman, has died many times. One of those deaths, one in particular, is more permanent than the rest. One sticks, for the rest of time. A final, true death." It still made him sad to say.

Yes, he admitted his rocky history with the man in question. The violent fights. The plots foiled. The lives lost. He had even died himself a few times by his hand. It did not stop him from caring. Caring for a man once his friend. For someone who always wasted their potential on murder and power. Someone who he once ran through the fields of their home world, two children, the best of friends.

They finally reached the clearing, and he shoved the overgrowth out of the way.

They now stood on the hill he had envisioned. Sarah said nothing as she gazed down at the glowing, metal pyramid. She knew there was only one being that a structure such as this could belong to.

He said it anyway, despite how it hurt. He knew the future, possibly his future, led here. This was not a possibility. It was an unavoidable eventuality.

"Welcome to the Tomb of the Master, Sarah."

"When" was her only response. He could see it in the way she looked at him though, the real question. Was it him?

"In the future. How far? It's hard to say." He shook his head. He truthfully did not know. There were rumors but... who could really say. "I'm not even sure how he, or she, goes."

"I'm sorry," she did know how much he cared for him, even though they had spent most of their lives as enemies.

"Everything ends, Sarah," he shrugged, "it just becomes a story in the end. This story's ending is already written."

"What do you expect to find in there?" she questioned. He noted she already had her screwdriver out.

"Anything. Everything. Or maybe nothing," was his cryptic reply. He truly did not know.

Slowly he began walking down the rough, rocky, hill. Sarah reach for his hand, and he took it, steadying his old friend. As they reached the bottom, he looked up at the crimson tomb. He did feel nerves, not knowing what he would find inside. The Master had modified his TARDIS in ways that bordered on the abusive at time. The machine could be as deadly as it's pilot.

The closer they got, the more he could feel the vibrations in the earth. It was so subtle, he barely noticed it, yet it was still there. It was still functional to some degree, even though the ship was obviously dying. That was why it was so big now, the bigger on the inside was leaking to the outside.

The sun had begun to sink below the horizon, coloring the sky neon pink. As the pair approached the derelict ship, a single, thin door opened on it with a creek. The inside was black like midnight. He only looked at Sarah, who stared into the dark.

"I've only met him twice. I don't know what to expect," she said with a shake of her head, "but he still scares me."

"He should," The Doctor replied, "don't fret Sarah, you have me," he attempted to comfort.

"You aren't afraid?" Asked his companion.

"No, I have you," he smiled. She held out her blue screwdriver, and it emitted a low warble. The stone on the end flashed, and the blue light expanded out around the pair. She led the way, even through her fear. That was what made her brave. She did what needed to be done, regardless of how she felt. He followed her closely, and they crossed the threshold of the Master's TARDIS.

The room was a rounded entry chamber. The dark steel was illuminated in the cold blue of Sarah's screwdriver. Time had taken it's course. All around the walls were round lights that had once been red, though now they were broken and burned out. The walls themselves were riddled with rust, and had lost their sheen a long time ago. From the ceiling hung wires and tubes, broken and frayed by the passage of time. A single, rusted hall stretched out before them.

They began walking forward when Sarah suddenly turned around, with a gasp.

"Doctor, why is it so dark outside? The sun had only just started going down just a second ago," she asked. He turned about too. She was indeed correct; night had fallen, and one of the planet's moons had begun to rise. He understood.

"Localized time distortion. This TARDIS is dying. Time is moving slower in here, and faster out there. An hour in here could be days outside," he finished. It wasn't as bad as some. He heard tales of dying TARDIS' where time sped backwards or jumped erratically back and fourth.

"Jack is going to leave us behind!" she replied worriedly. She was right, unless Jack disobeyed him.

That was when The Doctor saw a figure dart from the corner of his eye. He immediately whipped around, raising his screwdriver, expanding the light radius. The shadow was already gone, but now Sarah moved, whipping her screwdriver to her right.

"We have more important things to worry about," growled the Time Lord.

"There's something in here Doctor!" she said, throwing her light to the right again. He didn't answer, catching the shadow again to his left. As he turned it moved, Sarah moving in the same direction. It was too fast for either of them, and she only succeeded in illuminating him.

As they stood face to face, her light flickered, dying out completely. His dulled and flickered, but did not go out. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and she stared into the dark over his shoulder, her eyes huge in the low light.

"It's behind you..." she whispered. Slowly he turned around, keeping his light up.

He found himself face to face with a smiling young man. His grin was wide, but his brown eyes betrayed a darker nature. His sandy hair was cut neatly, and his beard was trimmed to match. He wore only a black suit and tie. The Doctor recognized him; former Prime Minister, Harold Saxon. Former regeneration of the Time Lord, The Master.

"Hello, Doctor, it's been a long time!" He cackled, his grin widening even more. His malicious laughter filled the room, echoing through The Doctor's head. It was pure insanity vocalized, with it's personification before him.

* * *

Jack sat on the steps of the console chamber, bathed in the light of the Time Rotator. It had been four hours since The Doctor and Sarah Jane had left, and they had not returned yet. He wondered where they were out there, and if they were alright.

He wished that he had pushed The Doctor, and gone with them. After all the close calls and near death experiences, the old Doctor could never have enough help. Not with everything rising to stop them.

However, he made a good point. If The Corsair regenerated, she would need someone. He knew what The Doctor was like when it happened to him. Confusion, coma, memory problems; some were worse than others but they still were traumatic. If all Time Lords were like this, then she would need him. He hoped it didn't come to that.

He knew how stupid this was, now that The Doctor had so graciously pointed it out. He did have feelings for that woman in there on the table. Feelings that were a step above his normal lusting. He hadn't realized it until he saw her laying there bloody on the floor.

It was ridiculous. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had been around her. She was emotionally volatile, yelling at him two out of three times.

Yet there was something he just couldn't shake. Maybe it was that smile that charmed everyone. Maybe it was those eyes that looked into forever. Maybe it was that she had been through hell and so had he.

Maybe that was the whole point. She could have been playing him. Using him. Time Lords did that, often. The Doctor was one of the finest men he knew, but he was also a manipulator. He used people when he needed to, especially when there was a great deal at stake. He thought about asking Handles for a moment, but the Cyberman head was in sleep mode, hooked into the TARDIS' console once again.

"Yes Jack, ask a Cyberman for relationship advice, good plan," he muttered to himself. Pick the one thing in the galaxy with no concept of emotion.

Then he heard footsteps behind him, clunking down the hall. He stood turning around.

Charles entered the room, stopping in the doorway. His lab coat was still off, his shirt speckled with blood. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was matted with beads of sweat. He adjusted his glasses, and wiped his hands on a towel.

"She's awake. She asked for you," he said, walking passed him, down the stairs.

"Is she... did she regenerate?" Jack almost did not want to know.

"She's going to be fine, and she won't regenerate. I finished the surgery two hours ago. I sat there and made sure she wasn't going to explode." Relief flooded over him.

"She's lucky this ship had such a well stocked medical bay, I used an entire bag of Stim Paste in that wound. Another few minutes and she would have gone into shock. Time Lords in shock are nearly impossible to bring out of it. Their body rejects treatment and just tries to regenerate, even though it can't." Charles turned around, looking at the screens. He was very matter of fact. He obviously did not want to talk to Jack.

"Thank you for saving her," Jack nodded. It didn't seem like enough.

"No sense not too. She'll be fine. She'll need a few days, and bikini season is over, but she'll recover." He seemed so cold now... what had happened to the worried man carrying her into the medical bay?

Jack lingered in silence for a few moments. He wasn't sure what to say, for once in his life. Only a few hours ago,he wanted to murder this man for holding them in a cell and threatening to erase their memories. Now he knew he was possibly a veteran of the Time War, and grateful to him for saving the life of someone he cared for.

"Can I ask you something?" He started. Charles didn't look at him.

"You can, it doesn't mean I'll answer," came his reply.

"Did you really fight in the Time War?" He heard Charles let out a single laugh, and he turned around, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I did." He said.

"I always thought The Doctor was the only survivor," Jack shrugged. That was what The Doctor always said.

"He is," Charles came back.

"I don't understand..."

"He survived the Time War. I didn't. Who I was died on Mechronomus. So he really is," he suddenly took on a wistful, mocking tone, "the only survivor of the Last Great Time War."

"Why so bitter?" Jack questioned. It seemed a bit overboard. They both had been through horrors. Charles snorted.

"Do you know how long I've had to fake it? Fake that I admired him for walking away from it? That I admired such a brave action of committing double genocide, or whatever the hell he did." He now stepped forward, pointing one robotic finger at him, "Pretend that I hadn't seen the same hell. That I hadn't watched the Daleks and Ogrons and the Cyclors kill everything they met simply because they were there? Pretend that I was some human who just researched the refuse left behind by his people and the Daleks? I was even doing it with him before the Spoonheads went crazy! All of it, because of that stupid war!" It sounded like he blamed him for the whole thing. It was the Daleks and The Time Lords. The Doctor only fought because he had too. He had attempted to stay out of it. He just got sucked into it so everyone in the entire universe didn't get killed.

"It isn't his fault, he did what he could to stop it," Jack defended. The Doctor wasn't perfect, but he tried to save anyone and everyone he could. Charles couldn't deny that.

"Maybe not, but if you think I hold any love for him you're wrong. We called him in our hour of need, and he left us to burn!" He shouted pointing to the door. "Our aims may be the same. I may respect him for everything he's done, the lives he has saved, but I sure as hell don't like him. I won't travel on a ship with him longer than I need to. As soon as we get that gun back, I'm out!"

He moved back toward the console, and pulled one of The Doctor's chairs to it. Jack saw him angrily pull up the right side sleeve of his shirt. In one motion, he pressed a few spots on the limb. With a hiss of air, before his very eyes, a multitude of compartments sprung open from his shoulder down to his hand.

He could see the entire inside of the Mechromancer's arm, and it was as The Doctor described. He could see bones inside, fed into a bronze colored rod. Veins and blood vessels were wrapped around it, and they were seamlessly mixed into the wires and gears. He could see other tubes and something that looked like a circuit board built into the muscles.

"If you don't mind..." he started. Jack watched him open a small compartment on the inside of his bicep. He pulled out a few small tools Jack could not identify, and laid them in his lap, "I need to get my defenses back online. I've had them turned off for a decade, but now everyone and their brother wants me dead because of you people. I'm going to need to be able kill again." He just sounded so angry. Jack simply felt awful. He never liked making people feel that way, not his allies anyway. He never realized how deep conflict had obviously cut him

"I'll... go check on The Corsair," said Jack uncomfortably. This conversation was obviously over.

"You do that," Charles answered. As Jack began walking down the hall, he heard one more thing. "And if you're going to talk to me about the war, don't talk to me."

Jack followed the hall back to the medical bay. He felt sorry for Charles, regardless of his attitude and insulting demeanor. He had just lost what was probably his home. For the second time. Everyone was dead, again. It probably felt no different to him. It salted old wounds.

It had made him bitter. War had a way of doing it. So did loss. Jack had been bitter for awhile. When he first realized he could not die. That he would out live everything and everyone. He wanted nothing more than to die. He had even taken his own life once or twice, to no effect. He was angry for his lot in life.

He learned to live with it. He learned to deal with it. With what he had seen and what he knew. That everyone else ended while he was forced to live on, no matter what. That if he had children he would out live them. He would out live the men and women he loved. He would even probably out live The Doctor.

He tried to find joy in it. Joy in the the experiences he had and the dashing adventures participated in. He treasured the people he met. He laughed, and smiled.

He wondered when the last time Charles had laughed at something, or was just happy. That was a major part of getting passed things. Finding beauty in negative spaces.

He swung his way around to the medical bay doors, and glanced inside. The Corsair lay in one of the immersion tubes, though it was open, with the glass off. Her shirt and kilt had been replaced by a white tank top and a loose fitting pair of jeans. The top was rolled up, and he could see bandages wrapped around her rib cage.

The strain of the injury was evident. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her lips pursed together. Her red locks were tangled and sweat-matted. She was still pale, but some of the color was already coming back to her. As he walked up she turned her head to look at him. A tired smile spread across her rosy lips.

"Hey there soldier," he quipped with a nod of his head, "how ya feelin'?"

"Like I got stabbed, and punched in said stab wound by a nut job," she replied dryly.

"Did you at least give as good as you got?" He asked, sauntering in. He grabbed one of the near by chairs, and yanked it next to her, sitting down.

"I tried. Think I did alright with my handicap," she shrugged.

"Was Charles alright to you?" He asked. The Mechromancer was gruff at best to him, but he had kindness in him, according to Sarah Jane at least.

"The perfect gentleman. Even went and found me some new clothes, so I wasn't all bloody," she looked down at herself, frowning, "not exactly what I would have chosen." At least he had been kind to her.

"Much pain?" He realized what a stupid question that was after he asked it.

"Yes, but nothing I can't handle. I've died eight times, so this isn't that bad by comparison." He knew the feeling. After the first three or four deaths, everything else seemed blunted.

He wasn't sure what to say. He had a lot he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to say it. Luckily, she deprived him of it.

"Where are we?" she grunted as she sat up a little straighter.

"Not sure, The Doctor and Sarah Jane went to find the next Epoch gun part. It's some kind of jungle planet."

"Huataan," she nodded, "They're going to be a few days out there, so don't do anything rash." That blew what The Doctor had told him to do. He believed her however.

"How did he take me this time?" She asked, with a raised brow.

"He doesn't believe the story I don't think," Jack replied, "he interrogated me pretty hard."

"Typical," she rolled her eyes, "give him time. We'll have our chat and it'll all blow over. Always does." He assumed she had been in this position before. Her green orbs scanning him, her face serious.

"You... you saved my life you know," she reached out, grabbing is hand.

"No," shaking his head, "Charles did."

"Who would never have gotten there without you finding him in the TARDIS," She shook her head.

"I think you were the one who made that possible," he chuckled. It had to be her. No one else could have remotely programmed his manipulator.

"Regardless, I knew I could trust you, and you did not disappoint me," she shook her head, "I couldn't regenerate even if I wanted to. You saved my life." He had not seen her this sincere since that day on Kallamorvis, atop the Dalek tower. She had let go of all pretense, and any masks she wore. She had told him that she was not of this reality, rather a parallel universe.

Her face now was the same. This was the real Corsair. Who she really was, when the lights were out, and she was alone.

"I would do a hundred times over," he smiled. She returned it.

"We're almost in the clear. The next piece of the Lens, the last one. We just need to get him through that. If we can do that, we'll be in better shape than any universe I've been in." He nodded, his stomach balling up. He just needed to be sure The Doctor wasn't killed and did not regenerate. It did make him wonder though.

"What separates this Doctor from his successor? What can this Doctor do that the rest can't?" Jack finally asked.

"He's kind," she shrugged, "he may be grumpy, and mouthy, and neurotic, but he's kinder than the others."

"I don't see how that defeats the Great Intelligence."

"Neither do his successors, which is why we need him. The one who will stay, fight, and sacrifice with no thought of self or reward."

"That sounds like every Doctor I've seen," Jack replied. She shook her head.

"The first was aloof and did not want to meddle. It was not a want to help, it was a responsibility. The second was harsh, but did what he could to help. The third was forced by Unit to help, which made him the good man he became. The sixth could be cruel, and the seventh was the manipulative warrior. The eighth had no drive to fight, even when he should. The one who was never Doctor was brave but did terrible things. The ninth was jaded, despite his kindness, and the tenth was selfish in his helping hand." She seemed to finish. She had left a few out. He had never heard The Doctor's lives laid out in numbers like that. It was odd to him, but he went along with it.

"You missed four, five and eleven." He pointed out. If he had his numbers correct.

"Because they are the others like him. A mix of kindness and bravery that is perfect for what must be done. The others... they are perfect for other things. Things maybe this one or the others could not have done. We need the one we have though. He is the hero we need."

It made sense to him what she was saying. Each had attributes that were better for one thing over another. Obviously, his next regeneration was not apt for combating The Great Intelligence.

"I'll do what I can..." he trailed. She shook her head of red locks.

"No, you'll succeed, because you're Captain Jack Harkness," she smirk.

"And?"

"And you're death proof, baby," she winked. He remembered how lame he sounded when he said that to her, back on the Dalek ship. He still didn't regret it, no matter how silly it sounded.

Suddenly, before he knew what was happening, her lips were on his. It took his breath away. He found himself frozen, her soft, cherry lips on his. Then he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her shoulder, dipping her into it, taking it in slowly.

He wondered for a moment, what this was. Was this a thank you for saving her? Was this her expressing feelings for him that were real? Was he just attractive and in the room, a way he had felt about so many others? Or was this just bribery and inventive.

"Look at you, Harkness, a beautiful woman is kissing you and your wondering what it means like a preteen, Twilight reading, girl." He wished her warm lips would tell him the secrets anyway. In that respect, they were locked tight.

They parted, and she rested her head against his forehead, eyes still closed for only a moment. Then laid back down, and smiled at him, for just a second. Her hand remained in his, and unlike that day in the Dalek tower, she did not take it away.

Neither of them said anything for the next half an hour, until he watched her drift to sleep. Maybe he didn't need to know, right now, what it meant. Maybe it just was.


	19. Full Circle

Sarah Jane watched The Doctor as he stood face to face with his old friend. His old enemy, The Master. She had seen this one before. He had once nearly conquered the world, only to be stopped by The Doctor.

How was he here, if this was his tomb? He was dead, was he not? Yet, there he stood, bold as brass. Same smile on his face he always possessed, that mean grin that reminded her of Morbius. His was different, though. It had less insanity, but far more malice. He was a different kind of evil than Morbius. Morbius was crazed. The Master was just mean.

The Doctor's cold blue eyes stared right through him, as he held his light up to his face. He was remaining calm, but his breathing was now heavier. She admitted that her own hands were shaking a bit. She knew what The Master was capable of.

Then, The Doctor did something strange. He stuck out his hand to The Master's chest. It slid right through, and his fingers twiddled out the other side of his back. With that, The Doctor smiled with realization.

"You aren't real," The Doctor seemed to wonder aloud. He sounded more quizzical than afraid.

"Oh, I'm real. As real as you, or her, or anyone else," he chuckled. He stepped back, and began to pace to the right. "Just a ghost."

Sarah watched in awe as his face and body changed. He suddenly transformed into an older cruel-looking man. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, and his thick straight mustache laid above a pair of sneering lips. He now wore a black jumpsuit instead of a suit. A previous regeneration; even his voice sounded different. He was now snide, and made it clear he was better than you.

"Merely reduced to pieces, shards of who I once was. A memory of a man." He abruptly shifted again. First his clothing changed to a long, blue, Victorian dress. Then his face became that of a woman, wearing a dark, feminine hat. Her hair was tied in a neat, brown bun.

"Or a woman. I am very much dead, that is true," she stopped standing again in front of The Doctor. "So you may want to say something nice, because..."

She shifted suddenly, yet again. This time, she turned hunched over, face mostly obscured by a hood. Sarah Jane could see the burned, rotting flesh beneath the hood, the man beneath terribly scarred.

"We're all in here, old friend," he gurgled, "and we've been dying to talk to you."

"Sarah..." The Doctor slowly started backing up, and she did the same. She knew what would come next, just by the tone of his voice. "Run!"

The pair took off, down the rusted metal hall before them. That was truly the only way to go, unless they just left. They couldn't do that. Not when they seemed to be finally ahead of Morbius. If he was even still alive.

The hall ahead ended in a T-shape, and the pair came to a skidding stop. Either direction looked identical, both rusted dark destroyed hallways.

"This way." The Doctor grabbed her hand, and tugged her down the left corridor. They continued their mad trek, turning up another hall. The Doctor lit their way with his sonic screwdriver, though she knew he did not know where they were going any more than she did.

They came upon another intersection, and turned left this time instead. Their footsteps thundered on the metal floor as they ran, though she thought she could hear laughter echoing from up ahead. They came to a turn, and took it to another T-shaped bend.

At this one stood the same, blond, younger Master. Now, however, he wore a waistcoat, and had a graying goatee.

"Sometimes, it helps to look behind you, when lost," he said with a smug grin. Sarah turned around slowly, The Doctor shining his light in that direction. They could see the original entry chamber behind them, with the door leading into the night.

How was that possible? They had somehow run in circles, though she didn't know how. Then she realized it; his TARDIS was moving its halls around as they ran through them.

"You know why I'm here, just give me what I came for," growled the Scottish Time Lord. As they turned around, that Master was gone, replaced by a fleshy, tall, bald man with beady eyes.

"Why would you ever think it would be so easy?" he laughed. She felt The Doctor's wrinkled hand grab hers, and he tugged her to the right. The Master disappeared before her very eyes, and they whipped around another claustrophobic corner.

Suddenly, they were running into the same entry chamber they just left. The Master with a mustache and salty hair smirked in front of them.

"Leaving so soon? You've only just arrived!" The Doctor narrowed his eyes, and turned about. He did not run this time, he stomped angrily forward. As the pair came to the intersection, she could see to the left was the entry chamber once again.

"Don't you want my help?" the female Master said to their left, a sweet, sly grin on her face. "All you need to do is say something nice." She shot him a wink.

He ignored her and they turned the other way, pacing down the hall. This led to another intersection, this one a four way. All directions looked identical. Sarah Jane wished she knew where to go, but she had the feeling it didn't matter. Her instincts said they had no control, and they were just along for the ride. It was up to her captor, whether it was the TARDIS or what remained of The Master.

She took a step forward, extending her screwdriver, hoping to see further down the hall. She did not want to move into the same entry room all over again. The Doctor was doing the same off to the right. She took a step or two into the hall. She thought she could see the hall empty out into a different room all together.

"Doctor, I think..." she turned around, finding a wall behind her instead of the intersection. She was alone, separated from The Doctor.

Now the nerves were setting in. She hadn't felt so anxious before, not in the company of The Doctor. He may walk in danger, but he made her feel safer. Braver. That was what real friends do.

She crept up the hall, her pale blue light guiding her. She thought she could hear distant voices but she could not make them out. She figured it was The Master and The Doctor, arguing. Or perhaps it was all in her head. She could just be paranoid.

She entered the new room. This looked as though it had once been a dressing room. Closets lined one wall, while broken, filth-encrusted mirrors lined the other. Piles of discarded clothing lay in ratty piles on the floor, while others still hung in their rightful places. She recognized some, the black jumpsuit, the fine jacket and tie, the Victorian dress, red and gold colored, Time Lord dress robes; among other moth eaten outfits. She wondered if all of the outfits in the closet were worn by an actual regeneration. Probably not, unless there were well over twenty Masters.

There was only one exit from the room, and she began down the next hall. She held her screwdriver steady, not sure what to expect. Half of her thought she would see the same room she had just left. The other half thought she would see Harold Saxon laughing before her.

The hall ended abruptly in a set of stairs. She could have sworn they appeared out of no where at all, as though they rose from the fog. She couldn't say for sure. It was too dark.

She cautiously walked down the rusted steps, into the pitch darkness. Her screwdriver flickered, and she tapped it on her hand a few times. She wasn't afraid of the dark, but she wasn't stupid. The dark anywhere else and the dark in The Master's TARDIS were two very different dark's.

She reached the bottom and found herself in yet another claustrophobic hall. She was tiring of these. Now she wondered if she was even going the right way. For all she knew, she was going further and further away from the Epoch Lens and The Doctor.

As if she had a choice. As she turned around, the stairs had been replaced with a wall. This malicious machine was leading her wherever it wanted her to go. She wondered how much time had passed outside. Had they been left behind? Had Morbius already found the other piece? What if he was already in here with them?

She shook herself out of her negative thoughts. She was going in circles this way. It did her no good. She needed to focus on where she was. Where she was going. What they were going to do once they found the artifact here.

"Would you like some help?" She heard a voice come from ahead. It wasn't like any of the others she heard, not a cruel man or a nihilistic woman. It sounded more like a child instead. Certainly could not be The Master...

She crept forward, her light guiding her ahead. She could make out a small, thin figure up ahead, just out of view.

"Hello? Are you alright?" She called out. How could there be a child in here? Was he lost? Was he even real? She took another step forward, fully illuminating the young boy.

He looked only to be about twelve years old, and was very thin. His black hair was cut in a bowl shape, and he wore a black denim jacket and blue jeans. He looked normal, except for his eyes. The pupils were black, and rimmed with vibrant gold. Gold, the color of regeneration. It was him.

He smiled at her, his gaze still lowered. His gaze was overtly threatening, and his voice matched, regardless of it's words.

"Don't worry Sarah, I'm going to help you." She had a feeling he was lying, but she did not have much of a choice. Not in his machine. Not with him in complete control of her surroundings.

* * *

Morbius stumbled through the door of his TARDIS falling to his knees. His teeth were grit together so hard he feared they would crack. Excruciating pain wracked his every move. He was drenched in a cold sweat. Shock... he was going into shock.

"Help me up you abortive imbeciles!" He yelled. Two of his ravaged slaves, one created from a Mondasian, another from a Juudon, obeyed. They grabbed under his arms, and half drug him to his console.

His console room was a large, mostly white room. He had no patience for the so-called roundels as the other Time Lords did. His walls were made of pure stone. Symmetrical columns decorated the wall every ten feet or so. They left just enough room for a large, scale statue of his former regeneration's, or a painting of dark, abstract art.

The octagon console itself was bare bones and streamlined. He was not fond of bells and whistles, simple levers, buttons and keyboards were all he needed, or wanted. The time rotator bathed all occupants in a flashing, sickly green. One would find a storm of lightning inside of it, constantly crackling and shifting as he shot through time and space.

His Ravaged slaves wandered about the room, some doing laborious work such as cleaning or shining. Others stood guard, weapons in hand, ready to take orders. Of the nearly three hundred soldiers he had originally arrived with, only thirty seven Ravaged remained, and five of his worshipers. Between the Daleks and the Spoonheads, they hadn't stood a chance.

He mustered all of his strength, and grabbed a single, black lever. With a scream of pain, he tore it backwards, beginning the sickly grind into the Time Vortex.

His scarred chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. His head was swimming and he felt light headed. Both of those shots were instantly cauterized, but the damage was already done.

"What is our heading now, my liege?" Gargled one of his cultists, a puffer-fish like Crachè Mortal. He bowed, showing respect.

"I don't know," he replied through gritted teeth. He could barely even think.

"Then how will we find the next Time Lord artifact, my Lord?" He questioned. Morbius had heard enough of his mindless yammering. He grabbed the laser gun from the hand of the Mondasian, pointed and fired. With a zap, the fish creature fell dead to the floor. Mark that as four cultists.

"Someone clean that up," he ordered, leaning heavily on the console. Everything hurt. Every breath agonizing. Every twitch burned like an inferno.

The Doctor's harlot had done untold damage to his body. Both of those shots could have been lethal to a weaker man. Maybe his survival was due to his Time Lord heritage. Maybe it was due to his altered form. He couldn't say.

If he hadn't allied with The Great Intelligence, none of this would have happened. He cursed his name. Were he not the only being capable of helping him breaking his connection to The Trickster, he may just have to compulsion to hunt him down once he was through with The Doctor. Morbius knew what sort of being The Great Intelligence was, and from where he came. What he did. A thing so ancient it made The Doctor look like a school boy.

He dared to look down upon himself. One cauterized hole was through his right shoulder, leaving the flesh melted and burned black. The other was just below his rib cage. He could almost guarantee his organs were shutting down, one by one. Killed by a human. A woman no less. How contemptible a way for one so great as himself to fall.

He couldn't regenerate. The Trickster was not powerful to that degree. Not yet. This was his only chance and he was failing. He felt like he was going to be sick, as his whole body convulsed. His legs went numb as he fell to the floor, his Ravaged leered at him blankly. Idiots.

His body spasmed involuntarily, like a massive electrical shock was ripping through him. It felt like his head was aflame, his eyes filling with white spots. His mouth filled with bile and the taste of blood.

He couldn't breath, liquid filling his lungs. He was drowning, here on the floor. No one could help him. The Doctor had won, like he always did. Agony was all he felt, the world spiraling out of view.

"Come now," he heard the silken voice whisper in his ear. He thought it was a hallucination to begin with, but it's tone was too familiar. "I gift you with a body, and you choose to throw it away in an attempted betrayal?" The liquid suddenly flooded from his lungs, without him coughing, and his mouth cleared. He was still blind, and couldn't move. The Trickster only wanted an answer, evidently.

"I... I didn't..." burning pain akin to being lit aflame erupted in every pore of his body. Every moment was anguish, as he rolled on the floor.

"Lying will only make it worse," taunted The Trickster, "try again." The pain lifted for a moment, and Morbius started talking, quickly.

"I saw an opportunity and took it. Would you not have done the same in my position?" he moaned out.

"Look at how well that turned out for you. Such a harvest you have reaped," The Trickster mocked. He was probably enjoying this. The irony of it. He did the only thing he could, something he never thought he would do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. That hurt more than his wounds.

"I can't hear you, Morbius!" The invisible flames returned with a vengeance, utter torment releasing inside of him.

"I'm sorry. I pledge myself to you! Fully!" Morbius screamed at the top of his lungs. He would say anything for it to stop. For him to be returned to himself. For a second chance to recover a body. Any body. The fire stopped, Morbius sucking in as many breaths as he could.

"Do you know what your problem is Morbius? Deep inside of what remains of your soul, you are a coward." The Trickster snickered darkly. "Unfortunately, you are a coward I need. I will restore you one final time."

"Thank you." Morbius coughed.

"Thank you..." The Trickster let hang.

"Thank you, Master," he spat quickly, before the pain began. Morbius had never been so humiliated in his many lives, and he had never hated another being this much. Not even The Doctor or the Sisterhood Of Karn. No one had ever brought him to his knees. No one.

"Not so powerful after all, are we?" He chuckled. There was a blinding flash, and the pain suddenly waned. With a jolt, he was on his feet, staring into the opaque, wispy shadow.

Somehow he felt different, though he could not place it, for a moment, what it was. Then, he looked down.

His arm as he had known it was gone, replaced with something all too gruesome, and all too familiar to him. From his shoulder, down to his wrist ,was covered in matted, patchwork fur. His hand had been replaced by an enormous claw belonging to a crustacean. He could see the stitch marks and melted flesh holding it all together.

Where the burn had been on his right was now healed, with a patchwork of green and brown reptilian scales. He wondered what his organs had been replaced with. His breathing felt heavier, and his stomach ached. These were seamlessly melded into his current, albinoid, flesh.

Rage filled him, looking down at the state of himself. These were from his old body, a body built of corpses. A body he hated. A form monstrous and degenerated. Loathsome.

"Why... why have you done this?" Morbius asked, eyeing the shadow before him.

"You betrayed me. This is a reminder of what I will do to you, should you do it again. A functioning, normal form is a privilege. Perhaps you should have considered that." The Trickster's smug tone angered him more, though he did not let it pass through his face.

"My scars, they have been spreading. If my death is so counterproductive, then perhaps you should restore me to my full strength." It was obvious The Trickster's powers were returning, and he was capable of healing him. If he was no longer constrained on time, he could rebuild his forces.

The Trickster only chuckled.

"Then I suggest you complete your task rapidly. I will be in touch with the location of the final piece. One is now lost to you, so we shall move on. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Morbius." The shadow faded from view.

Morbius leaned against the console, staring into the lightening-filled rotator. He hated that creature. Hated it with all of the blood in his body. He looked down at the mutant claw, clicking the pincers together. A hand good for crushing, or choking. Nothing more.

He smashed it hard into the console, letting out a scream of rage. Back here he had come. A body of half decomposing refuse. How he loathed it.

He gripped the main lever of his TARDIS with his left hand, and pushed it forward. He would find the last piece. He would kill The Doctor. He would gain vengeance against The Trickster.

He would destroy them all. He was never so easily defeated. This time would be no different.


	20. Hell and High Water

_(Author's Note: For those who are curious, The Child Master is my favorite incarnation. He appeared in the 11th Doctor comics, the same ones as the Volatix Cabal, and The Master's... unnatural creation that is revealed in this chapter.. As you may have noticed, that book was very inspiring. Read, and review. Reviews are food! Feed the wolf!)_

The Doctor's footfalls echoed through the rusted, steel halls. His screwdriver lit his way, the pale green illuminating what was just in front of him. Sarah had been stolen away by the Master's TARDIS. Who knew where, or how far she was now. This machine was just as devious as it's pilot, even in death.

He turned yet another corner, coming face to face with yet another version of his old foe. This one was old, and thick around the middle. His stark white hair was neatly trimmed, and his blue eyes as cold as a blizzard. Yana; that was what this one once called himself, The Master who lived at the end of the universe.

"Doesn't it disturb you? That she is alone in here? Do you even care?" He hissed. The Doctor walked right past him, not answering. He was finished arguing with phantoms. It was a waste of time. He would have him do it all day if he could. He refused.

"Oh, are we pouting now? The silent treatment, like a petulant child?" Yana taunted, walking behind him. "Just because I decided to have a little fun with your friend?" The Doctor rounded the next bend, Yana still behind him.

He did not look, but he heard his voice change, back into that of his Harold Saxon incarnation.

"You don't even care about them, do you? They're just like cats, or dogs, or a hamster. They die, and it doesn't even bother you," he taunted. The Doctor finally stopped, whirling around to face his old nemisis. The younger Master smiled at him, but the grin soon faded.

"I care for her, as I have cared for all of them! You wouldn't know anything about that, because you've never cared about anything other than death, destruction, and yourself. Care is a duty, but you've always been too much of a coward to accept it."

"A coward? From the man who always runs away!" Laughed the Master.

"Willingness to fight, isn't bravery. Neither is causing pain, and misery wherever you go. You always took the easy road." The Master backed up, transforming back into his hooded, burned form.

"Never care about the pain you cause, because it's easy to do it that way. Never feel guilt for anything you've done, because that hurts too much. Never think about anyone, but yourself, because then you realize what you've done to them. Never stop doing it. because once it all catches up to you, it's too much to bare." He was breathing hard now.

"Oh yes, the Saintly Doctor!" The burned man replied. His face contorted, taking on a form with pale skin, and slick-backed, brown hair. He wore a trimmed beard, and the same, empty eyes all the others possessed. This was the Master that possessed Tremas' body, from Tracken.

"Never doing anything wrong! Always seeing the right path!" He mockingly yelled, holding one finger sarcastically in the air, "doing nothing, but the kind, correct, diplomatic solution. What is it like, to be right all the time." He sneered.

"You wouldn't know right and wrong if it walked up, and knocked out your teeth," The Scottish Doctor shot back. "That was always your problem. I accept when I've done something wrong, and attempt to make it right next time. I stare my darker nature in the face, and choose to do the kinder thing, even if it's more difficult. Killing is easy, because it ends a problem. Showing compassion isn't, but sometimes that makes it even more right. You never learned that."

"You never had the guts to do half of what I accomplished," he stuck is nose in the air, defiant.

"And you were too gutless to feel anything you did to anyone else. So I guess we're both cowards." He turned around, stomping away. This was the same argument he had always had with him, and he probably always would. He didn't hear The Master following him.

"One of us did..." he heard the female voice come from behind, barley audible.

The Doctor left them behind, and turned into another room. Finally, he was making progress.

The large room was oval in shape, and three stories high. The walls were lined with shelf upon shelf of books. They were of all shapes, and sizes, some small enough to hold in the hand, others large enough to take up a sizable table. All were dust covered. Some were eligible with the passage of time. Those that weren't exposed their owners darker interests. The Necronomicon, The Liber Blaspheme, Libris Mortus, The Book of Vile Darkness, were all present on the shelves. Even more rare terrors lurked here; The Black Scrolls of Rassilon lay open on a near by table, next to a closed copy of Liber Inducens in Evangelium. Books even the The Doctor dare not open, such as The Black Appendix, The Ambuehl Lores, and the Insidium of Astrolab, just lay discarded on the floor, in piles of forgotten refuse.

Spiral staircases led up to the higher floors, matching the black iron railings that formed the gothic balconies that now rusted alone. The room was lit by spider shaped chandeliers, the lights flickering in, and out at random. At least he was getting somewhere now, other than the entrance.

"Tell me, are you impressed by my collection?" The bald incarnation of The Master asked from behind him, "do you remember all of the reading you and I used to do?"

"I do," The Doctor replied. He started walking through the dark library. He did not want to play The Master's games anymore. He had neither the time, nor the energy. "Your tastes have grown darker since we last studied together."

"Like both of us." The Master suddenly appeared ahead of him. This one had dark hair, combed neatly. He wore a leather jacket, and a pair of sunglasses. "Or do you disagree?"

"What are you looking for?" He asked him, walking past. The only way out of this room was a hall on the upper levels. He started up one of the spiral stairwells. "Validation? That you aren't the only one made harsher by the passage of time? Would that make you feel better?"

As he reached the upper deck, the same Master waited for him at the top of the stairs, back against a book shelf, arms crossed.

"I just want you to admit that you are exactly like me. Your own transgressions are just as profane." The Doctor stopped for a moment, standing in front him. Why was this so important to him? Was he attempting to feel better about the horrible life he had chosen to live? Did he believe it somehow made it all better? He was stuck here, with all of his thoughts, after all. Nothing else.

Or, was this simply a game, as it always was? That was what The Master always seemed to do, play petty little games with enormous consequences.

It didn't rightly matter. The Master was dead, and had been for a long time by now. He was just a shade of something that had been. Something that did not matter any longer, not really.

"I do admit it," the Time Lord finally sighed, "the reasoning is what separates us. Your ends never justify the means." The Doctor helped people in need. There were times when there were only terrible decisions. He picked the one that benefited others the most. The Master only did things that benefited himself, and his own ends.

"So did mine." Still defiant. The Doctor shook head, passing by The Master, and down the next hallway. He could feel that he was getting closer now, closer to the console room. He had a feeling that was what he was looking for. It would be no where else.

* * *

Sarah Jane walked cautiously beside the child, the child that was The Master. It was curious to her; no one, herself included, ever considered Time Lords as children. It made her wonder though, was this the first incarnation?

"Your wondering about me, aren't you, which one I am?" he asked, as though he read her mind. "I can see it in those eyes."

"Yes, I must say I'm curious," she acknowledged. She wasn't sure she should have said that. The Master, all Masters, in all of his lives, were manipulators. They played with people, and toyed with them, to disastrous effects much of the time. She was taking a risk. She did not necessarily believe he would help her, as he so stated. She had no other option however. She needed to get out of here sometime, and find The Doctor. They were on a time constraint, with Morbius, possibly still alive.

"I'm not the original, if that is what you are wondering," he replied. "Turn here," he pointed left, as they came to another intersection.

"Then why..." she left it hang, uncertain of what to say.

"Why am I a child, you mean, "he smirked.

"That's what I was trying to ask, yes." This whole conversation felt awkward to her.

"This is how I regenerated," he shrugged. Then why was he a child?

"I was dead once, not all that different to this time. When the Last Great Time War began, the Time Lords saw fit to resurrect me. When I regenerated, I regenerated into the body of a child." The boy explained.

"I didn't know that was possible. I thought Time Lords always regenerated into... adults," her brow was furrowed.

"For the most part, but they can end up younger, just as they can become older. Imagine my rage when I found myself, centuries of knowledge trapped in the body of an eleven year old boy," he was acting so... docile. Why? This was not The Master she had heard so much about. That she knew so much about. She had the feeling there was a trick, or trap here, but she couldn't see it.

"I can see how that would be... disorienting," Sarah nodded. She imagined regeneration was difficult enough. Let alone if one went from being a full grown adult, to now being a child.

"Why are you telling me this?" Sarah Jane finally questioned. Was there even a point?

"The Doctor and I were allies during the war. We fought the Volatix Cabal together. In a way, it is because of him that I survived the war," the young looking Time Lord looked at her with his cold eyes. There was something in his eyes, something in his voice that gave her pause. "I would like to repay the debt. I owe him at least that much. Perhaps my other versions don't see it that way, but... I do."

"That is very... kind of you. Not what I would expect," Sarah eyed him suspiciously.

"It is not about kindness, it is about repayment," said the boy. "Turn into here." He motioned to the doorway up ahead. She attempted to illuminate it, but it remained dark, even through the light of her screwdriver. The Master only stood before the darkness, and held out a single, petite hand, pointing.

Her screwdriver winked out as she entered the room, but that was the least of her worries. The smell that hit her nostrils was so overpowering, she gagged. It stank like desiccating flesh, and ammonia. She covered her mouth with the collar of her shirt, but it didn't help. The stench was overwhelming, and the air murky, and wet. It was good she hadn't eaten today.

Then she took a step forward, feeling her feet sink into ankle deep water. It rushed into her shoes, eliciting an involuntary gasp, inhaling the dreaded air.

"What is..."she started, looking back. The child Master was gone. "Great." She took another step, something wet dripping down onto her shoulder. She wiped it off, another drip plopping onto her neck. She stood straight as it slipped down her back.

She smacked her screwdriver against her leg, pressing the button a few more times. Nothing happened, and she took a sharp breath. Her heart thundered in her chest, as she took another squishy step forward. This was wrong; she could feel it. It was all wrong.

More water dripped down her shoulder as she took another, careful step. She squinted into the darkness. She could almost make out an outline resembling a TARDIS' octagon console, but she couldn't say with any surety.

"Would you like me to turn on a light for you?" The young boy asked, from somewhere in the dark.

"That would be nice," Sarah Jane replied. She had a feeling the sight she would find would be most unpleasant.

"If you say so. Remember that you are the one who asked."

The lights in this room were bright as they clicked on, and almost immediately, Sarah Jane wanted them turned back off.

She could make out an octagon, console shape in the center of the room, but it was covered by a revolting, flesh-colored blob. The pulsing thing had skin resembling a human, but as though crossed with a squid. It was pale, and misshapen; bulbous, like it was riddled with growths.

Tendrils of it had begun to overtake the broken time roater, and snaked along the ceiling. Those same flesh tentacle were stretching along the floor as well, some beginning to reach up the walls. The ceiling was cracking from the pressure, water dripping from the fissures.

She gagged immediately, looking at it. She turned around, about to run, realizing what the water she was standing in was made of. Then she saw it, splayed on the console, half covered by the tentacles. The crimson gun barrel. The piece of the Epoch Lens.

"Terrible isn't it?" The Master asked, emotionless, now standing next to her.

"You're sick!" She wretched, her stomach turning. No wonder this room smelled gangrenous.

"I was at times. I take it you've never seen a Chronal Tumor?" He returned calmly, his beady eyes smirking in just the slightest.

"No," was the only response she could choke out without her stomach entering her throat.

"I used to use these to break Time Locks. They are unnatural, and therefore can do unnatural things. I used to have another, but it was destroyed by The Doctor." Another one of these... things? Was one not putrid enough?

"That one was much smaller than this. This one has grown out of control, as cancer is want to do," shrugged the child.

"I still don't understand why you would have such a thing, no matter it's powers," Sarah managed to retort. That was what separated The Master from The Doctor. He would never use something so perverse.

"I grew the original, that I will admit. This one... I had no choice in the matter." She caught the edge to his tone. Something about this made him angry.

"What do you mean? Where did it come from?" She did not want to ask, but...

"This is... what is left of me." He coldly replied. A cold feeling, one not already attributed to the water, and disfigured surroundings, ran through her.

"All of my experiments, all of my meddlings, my rituals, every plot, plan, con, and scheme. Every time I beat the laws of regeneration by extraneous means. Every experiment on myself, or my machine. All of them, brought me one step closer to this. All that is left of me is a husk. A symbiotic tumor. I lived an unnatural life, and unnatural I remain." She covered her mouth, not sure what to say.

She knew of The Doctor's tomb. She had seen it in his memories. She saw his Time Scar, a tear in the universe his adventures had left in his wake. If he had taken a different turn, taken the darker path, could he have ended up with something like this instead? Was this what happened to Time Lords who abused their privilege of traveling through time? Was this their punishment? An eternal half-life purgatory?

"But you can see it, yes? I have brought you to what you seek." He pointed to the gun barrel, glued to the console by the tumor's flesh.

"I don't understand why The Doctor would choose to put it here," she muttered. He had to pick the most disgusting place in the universe.

"The infection had not grown to this degree when he was last here. It has had a long, long time to fester in the dark. But there is your artifact. All you must do is take it. My debt to The Doctor will be paid." She gave the mass a suspicious glare, then looked at The Master with the same. She did not trust any of this. Not the child to her side. Not the tumor ahead of her.

Yet, no other choice presented herself. There sat the fragment of the Epoch Lens, undeniably so. She had to take it, no matter what. If she didn't, then Morbius eventually would. And if he was dead, someone else still may. They couldn't have that. There was still time to stop all of this.

She took another few steps toward the pulsing, cancerous console. The smaller Master was gone now, and she stepped again. The closer she got to the center of the room, the worse it smelled, but she buried her face in her elbow, trying to stifle another gag.

She reached the console, trying not to look. It was pulsing faster near her, like it sensed her. She could almost hear a heartbeat squelching inside of it.

She focused her eyes, instead, on the gun barrel. She reached out one hand, carefully grasping it, and not touching the Chronal Tumor. She still nearly recoiled; it was wet, and slimy. She gave it a firm tug, but it didn't budge. It was glued in place.

She pocketed her screwdriver, and grabbed it with both hands. She jerked it a few times, and pulled as hard as she could. She felt it give, just a tad, but not enough. She tried to move it more, but it refused. She knew what she had to do, she just did not want to.

She gripped one of the rubbery, slimy tendrils, of flesh, and pulled. She stifled another wretch, and shut her eyes, trying not to think about the mushy, wet, thing in her hands. She felt it give, and pulled off. She stumbled back, nearly falling into the stagnant pool around her.

The barrel was looser now, and she tried again, gripping it with all of her strength, and pulling.

With a sickening pop, it came loose, and she yanked it out, leaving a trail of slime in it's wake. She looked down at her prize, still covered in yellow ooze. She was just glad that was over.

Her chest still quivered, like she could throw up at any minute, but now she just needed to leave. The Doctor was probably close by. She turned around, walking away from the horrible thing. If she never saw it again, she would be alright with that.

Suddenly, in a split second, one of the flesh tendrils whipped towards her. She whirled around as it did, but it was too fast. Before she could react, it wrapped around her wrist, wrenching the Epoch Lens Barrel from her grasp. With a splash, it fell in the water, but that was the least of her worries.

It started yanking her toward the console. It was stronger than she expected it, and she struggled against it. She tried to rip it off of her wrist.

Another ripped away from the time roater, grabbing her other hand. It pulled it away from her other arm, and both started dragging her closer toward the console. She wiggled her right hand free, and started reaching for her sonic screwdriver.

Another, this one thick, reminding her of an octopus, wrapped around her waist, and pulled even harder. She tried to struggle back, but she was drug forward.

Then she saw it, protruding from the fleshy mass in the middle of the console. She made out the outline of a mouth in the flesh. Both eyes were created of ragged holes.

"Give it to me," it gurgled, its watery mouth flopping open, and closed, as though it had little control. "Give me your body!" It shrieked. The child Master now stood to her right, a grin dripping with malice on his face.

"Revenge! I shall have my revenge!" He exalted. She struggled uselessly against the tendrils pulling her forward. A trap. It had all been a trap. She wished she had seen that sooner.

* * *

"I've never seen anything like this. And I've seen a few things." Charles eyed the red globe of code down rims of his glasses. His arms were crossed, with his head cocked to the side slightly. Jack smirked at his puzzled expression. He knew the feeling.

Jack leaned his back against The Corsair's console, glancing at the former TWAC leader. It looked like Christmas inside her TARDIS; the lime green time roater glowed alongside the expanded globe of red code being projected from the console. The Heretic Code, to be precise.

It had been a week since The Doctor, and Sarah Jane had left for the Master's Tomb. The Corsair had been very frank in saying they would be gone for quite a long time, and that they needed to wait for them. Jack chose to trust her, as he had many other times. At this point, she had been right about nearly everything. She had proven that, when it came to the future, and what she knew about it, he could trust her.

With the wait, and with her fairly sidelined by recovering anyway, she wanted to try and get some work done. Any kind of work. She recalled her TARDIS, landing it next to The Doctor's, and decided to look at the Heretic Code again.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" She replied, walking back around the console, to Charles. She wore her signature outfit once again, free of blood. Her formal shirt was no longer as fitted however, as she still wore bandages underneath it. Her kilt, and boots were the same, now clean.

Charles may have been an excellent surgeon, and the TARDIS' medical bay may have been brimming with high tech supplies , but she still needed time to heal. She was a Time Lord, she had a lot of that. Jack half wished she was more like him, and just healed. It was easier that way, in many respects.

Her stature was still hunched a tad as she walked over to stand beside Charles. She swirled her hand through the globe as she walked. It was like she wanted to be able to touch it. Make it tangible. She could break it that way.

"Very, but I don't get it," Charles nodded, "This is far beyond anything The Mechromancers did. I think this above even the Time Lords."

The Corsair screwed up her face, seemingly disappointed, before ruffling her hand through her red locks. It was the way she looked at that code; Jack could almost see the gears spinning in her head.

She had told them of the events in the Time War Containment Authority, and her interrogation of the Volatix Cabal Dalek in the vault. Jack had already gleaned this information from Sarah Jane, second hand. Charles, however, had been oblivious to such information. The Dalek had never responded to any interrogations, or coercion on the part of Charles, or his men. All he was willing to say was the Volatix battle cry, "Extermin-hate! "

"I never would have believed you if you had come and told me that someone like this Great Intelligence had allied together the Daleks and the Cybermen." Charles wiped his glasses on his shirt, and placed them back on his face.

"I'm trying to look at it with new eyes, with what the Dalek told me," The Corsair replied, eyes still on the code, "look more at corrupting it, rather than decoding it. That would mean finding the host, whomever that is."

"How would you go about that, once you find them?" Jack asked. Gene mapping was always a difficult subject to him. This was obviously on a scale than he had never seen.

"I think I would need to introduce something to the code. Perhaps something new. Some sort of chaos factor." She seemed to think out loud.

"You may just need to unbalance it," Charles pointed, tracing his own thick finger through it. "Because there are already samples in here that are of chaotic beings. Draconions, Humans, Time Lords, to name a few. Things that follow, or throw out whatever rules they see fit."

"That was the original purpose of code," The Corsair nodded. He continued.

"Well, if looks as though they've been balanced out by Mondasian, Saurans, things like that."

"Species that follow a strict code," She answered, "I see your line of thinking."

"Much of the rest is Thaal, and Kalids, for purity,"he quoted with his fingers, "perhaps if you could introduce more chaos, unbalance the entire equation, it would do as the Dalek suggested."

"That's brilliant," The Corsair muttered, obviously still thinking, "assuming he told me the truth."

"It was in his best interest to," Jack finally butted in, "that thing sounded more obsessed with Dalek purity, and Dalek strength. You can't tell me it liked the idea of Daleks cavorting with Cybermen."

"Not to mention you were holding it at gun point," Charles snorted.

"Jack has a point. Daleks like that don't fear death," The Corsair nodded.

"Either way, this is all just supposition until you can find the source," Jack finally walked around to the other side, standing with the pair. "Do you even have a lead?"

"Way to be a Debbie Downer," The Corsair shook her head with a dry smile. "No. I don't. I've ripped apart hundreds of Spoonheads, hacked hundreds of terminals, and data mined I-don't-know-how-many of his outposts. None of them, not a single one, made any mention, or even an inkling of some kind of transmission."

"I wonder... if you could get into a Dalek..." Jack thought aloud. They were the ones who carried the Heretic Code. Perhaps they could trace it somehow.

"Good luck with that," jeered Charles.

"No good," The Time Lady waved off, "I've already done that."

"What haven't you done?" She gave him a glare, but Jack was not mocking her. He meant that.

"I don't know, "she finally admitted, rubbing her face, "but we need to figure this out. Soon. It's going to get worse and we'll need The Doctor."

"What do you mean worse?" Charles asked, eyeing her. She hesitated.

"You need to remember..." she spoke in a measured tone, almost unsure, "They're allied, The Daleks and the Cybermen. They're going to start sharing tech. Soon."

"Sharing tech?" Jack squinted at her. She nodded.

"They aren't there yet, but they will be. We can delay it, but we can't stop it. You're going to start seeing things you never thought possible. These are two hypersophisicated races, Jack, and when they start teaching each other things..."

"Throw the rules out the window," Charles clicked a switch on The Corsair's console, taking down the globe. "You know what this sounds like, right?" He took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, before brushing his hand through his sandy hair. "The Time War."

"It isn't," The Corsair corrected, "It's worse. The Time War was always going to end with the death of the Time Lords and the Daleks. There was no other solution. This one... this one is going to kill everything if we don't stop it."

"Let me ask you," Charles pointed his glasses at the woman, "if you know what's going to happen, why aren't you making pre-emptive strikes on the targets and places you know about." There wasn't any disrespect in his voice, it was a simple, logical question.

"I have," she defended, though not angrily, "I attack them when, and where, I know they will pop up. After, is when I start having problems."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"Ok... " she sighed. "He always sets up a Spoonhead production plant on Kynnermarch. Always, every time. I attack it, and destroy it, every time. The Great Intelligence always rebuilds it, on a different world."

"Which one?" Charles asked.

"That's the kicker. It's not the same twice. Sometimes it's on Phlutark. Sometimes it's on Hollgrand. It could be on Despin, or Xionin, or Jurnuk-Five. Thats the problem with all of this, in every universe. The base events are the same. The big ones. But once you meddle, it changes things. It's like throwing a rock into a lake. You can drop the same stone in the same spot, but the ripple will be different. I'm hoping that not allowing The Doctor to die will be a big enough ripple to change everything, not just a small event. Erase some of the larger ones that haven't occurred yet. Change them."

"You know, what if..." Charles started. Then the room was drowned in red lights. A blaring alarm screamed over everything.

"What is that?!" An alarmed Jack yelled. It wasn't Trick Or Treaters, he knew that.

The Corsair did not answer, rushing around the console, to look at the screen on her TARDIS. Her eyes narrowed, and she thumbed a switch, turning the alarm off.

"That's a Cyberman ship!" She exclaimed.

"What?" Charles jumped back, shocked.

"They just dropped troops into the jungle!" She looked up, her eyes wide, "this has never happened before! Not here!"

"Why are they here?" Jack almost slapped his own forehead. He knew why they were here.

"Ripples... that's why."

"Sell cookies?" Charles shot back sarcastically.

"Can you fly us to the tomb? We need to get to The Doctor before they do!" Jack asked, ignoring Charles. The Corsair shook her head.

"That tomb is surrounded by a field. Trying to fly through it is going to severely damage any TARDIS. We're as close as we can get." She was talking fast.

"Then we're going to have to get out there," he looked to Charles, who nodded at him.

"Here, "The Corsair moved around the console, and knelt down. Jack heard the quiet warble of her sonic contacts, and a hatch popped open on the floor. Of course she had secret stashes in her console room. He didn't need three guesses what was inside.

She reached down inside, first pulling up a black assault rifle. It resembled an Earth gun, but the barrel was thicker. A pair of tubes also reached from the clip into the muzzle. She yanked up a duffle bag with it. She tossed both in the direction of Charles.

"That's a Vogan-modified gun," she chattered quickly, "the bullets are laced with gold. These Cybermen should still be vulnerable to gold."

Charles grabbed it, holding it up, examining it. He nodded, picking up the bag. He immediately shouldered it, and loaded the gun with a new clip. Jack saw him grab his Tinitrus as well, sliding it in the bag. If he could smash a Dalek with it, it would kill a Cyberman.

"What is that gun you have, a Villengard?" She asked Jack rapidly.

"Always." Jack smiled. Best arms in the business, if you could afford them. Or one did what Jack did, and stole them. She pulled three more small boxes out of the compartment, and tossed them to him. His reflexes were sharp enough to catch them. Power packs for his gun. Good. He was going to need them. He stuffed them into his coat pockets.

"Hey, I thought I lost this!" She suddenly shouted. Much to his surprise, she was holding a bright, yellow, round pin. It was of a stereotypical smiley face. She took it, and pinned it to her kilt with a wide grin. "I've looked everywhere for that!"

"Cybermen attacking!" Charles snapped his fingers, face aghast.

"Right," she nodded, diving half way back into the hatch.

Lastly, she pulled up a dark blue weapon. It resembled a double-barrel shot gun, but a glowing yellow tube along the side separated it from an Earth armament. Who made it, however, he couldn't say.

"Let's go," she nodded, pumping it.

"No, no, no, Hold on, you're not going anywhere!" Charles half chuckled, holding up a hand.

"What?" snorted The Corsair, with derision in her tone, "who are you to tell me what to do?"

"Your surgeon, for one," he shot back, "you can't fight in your condition. No way! You shouldn't even be lifting that gun!"

"I'm perfectly fine! I..."

"Your not even standing up straight!" Motioned with his free hand, "no. Let us handle this." She looked at him, then to Jack, almost looking for his permission.

She wasn't going to get it.

"He's got a point. You're a week off of surgery. You're tough sister, but not that tough," she set her jaw, giving him an angry look.

"What do you want me to do? Sit here and knit while the men go out and hunt?" She asked sarcastically.

"No! I expect you to stay here, do re-con for us, and not damage that stab wound!" She was silent for a moment.

"We need you," Jack said quietly, "we need what you know, what you've seen. I know you say we need this Doctor... but I think we need this Corsair." Maybe if he put it that way, she would listen to him. Charles rolled his eyes.

"Good God, laying it on a little thick there," Charles snapped.

"Fine... I'll stay." She leaned her gun against the console, then tossed Charles a small ear bud from her shirt pocket. She did the same to Jack, and he put it in his right ear. "I'll let you know about their movements."

"Alright, come on," Jack motioned to Charles, jogging to the door. He followed right behind.

"If you get into trouble, I'm coming out there," was The Corsair's harsh reply.

"We'll be fine, deathproof baby," Jack shot her a final wink, then a smile. The pair rushed out into the jungle. They could already see the smoke in the distance. They knew where to go.


	21. The Shape of Evil

Sweat poured down Jack's brow as he ran through the steamy jungle, ducking under tree limbs, and crashing through bushes. Charles was at his back, keeping up, gun in hand. They were moving as fast as they could, knowing they didn't have the time to waste. The Cybermen were obviously here for one reason.

They were here for The Doctor. To kill him. Jack knew they could not let that happened, not with everything The Corsair had told him. Charles may not have any semblance of respect for The Time Lords, but even he understood that.

He looked up at the sky as he ran, seeing black smoke pluming upwards from the direction they were running. He could smell the burning wood. They were getting close. The Cybermen were doing what they did best; destroying anything that was not a Cyberman, and could not be made one. Racism at it's highest form.

"There's a slope about thirty feet ahead of you. Scanners are showing Cyberman activity at the bottom of it," The Corsair chattered in his ear.

"How many?" Charles asked, before Jack could."

"I'm counting twelve in the general area, but the smoke is messing with the sensors. There could be more, could be less." Jack only nodded. So she had no idea.

They reached the steep incline she had informed them about, Jack instantly taking cover behind a tree. The hill itself was overgrown with tall, lush grass. Trees were interspersed down it, with vines dangling down like snakes. Glittering sunlight filtered down through the leaf canopy up above, shining down on a pair of up-rooted trees lying at the hill's bottom. They were as big around as Jack was tall, maybe even more.

Below the hill however, the majesty of the forest ended. The field, and trees were aflame. Black, choking smoke accompanied the raging blaze, orange flames spreading in all directions. They raced up trees, and burned away green grass, and leaves, leaving nothing behind, but scorched, black patches, and ashes. Farther beyond, he could see a black, ashen field, that had once been more jungle.

The culprits were still here, marching in a line. Jack could see them from here. They looked like tall men wearing thick, silver, armor. The blue, glowing light in the center of their chest revealed them as something else entirely, something more machine than man. There faces were featureless, except for a pair of black empty eyes, and a thin line for a mouth. The squarish shape of it's head, complete with a handle-like apparatus rising from where it's ears would be revealed them for what they were. That shape, the shadow made by it, was loathed, and feared across the universe. He could see four close by, and another two, further away in the ash field.

It was true. The Cybermen were here. They stood in a line, walking in one direction. Their fists were pointed forward, the guns attached to their wrists, spitting fire before them. The accelerant burned down everything in it's path. They had only been here about an hour or so, and Jack could already see a football pitches length of burned field. Nothing remained.

"Why are they doing that? I thought they were here to kill The Doctor." Charles asked through the com-link.

"They are, but this planet is perfect for their needs. It's out of the way. If they can clear it of anything "unnecessary," they can use it." The Corsair explained.

"For what?" Charles asked. Jack knew the answer before she said it.

"A Cyber-factory."

"Not today they wont." Jack muttered. He glanced over at Charles, who was looking at him. The Mechromancer nodded, and Jack did the same.

They came from their hiding places in unison, each taking a target. Jack fired, his Villengard Special blasting two shots into the nearest Cyberman. It was caught off guard, the first shot glancing off it's helmet, the second hit it full in the side of the head. It dropped to the ground with a dull thud. It's partner turned, raising it's wrist gun, but Charles shot first. Two gold rounds hit it square in the chest. Jack saw it twitch, the wound sparking, before it flopped backwards.

"Oh good, they haven't fixed their weakness to gold yet!" The Corsair shouted in their ears. The other Cybermen in view now turned to view their attackers.

"You mean you weren't sure?!" Charles shouted, ducking back as a pair of blue lasors flew past his head.

"Ninety percent sure!" The Corsair argued. Jack popped off a pair of lasers at one of the approching Cyborgs, both missing. One of the further ones fired two wrist shots at him, blowing a pair of holes in the tree he was covered behind.

"Delete!" He heard a Cyberman below drone as it started it's march up the hill. It's wrist gun was pointed at Charles, heavy shots of plasma spewing forth. Charles ducked back as the tree he was behind was blown apart in front of him. He dove aside, scrambling behind another tree.

Jack cracked off another shot, this one at Charles' attacker, the laser glancing off it's shoulder. Jack was forced back, however, as a second Cyberman fired from the bottom of the hill. Jack ducked, a huge chunk of bark blasting past his face. This was not good. They had no good cover.

Charles was more than full of surprises however. As he rose from the ground, he held his robotic arm up in front of him, parallel to his head. His hand was in a fist, and before Jack's eyes, he watched a crescent-shaped, blue aura rise in front of him. It was some sort of polarity shield, as far as Jack could gather. Charles seemed to stand firm, aiming his rifle with his other hand.

The first Cyberman laser bounced off of it, ricocheting into the heavens. Charles was about to answer, but the a second wrist shot hit.

Much to his dismay, the shield was destroyed with a zap of electricity. Charles was thrown from his feet, with a loud curse, landing flat on his back. He immediately flipped over, stumbling to his feet beneath a hail of fire from both Cybermen.

That meant neither of them were looking at Jack. Charles may have bungled his defense, but Jack had an opening. His shot on the closest steel man was true. The blue beam went through the light on it's chest, and Jack saw a blob of molten metal shoot out it's back. It flopped forward, as he took aim at the one marching up the hill.

Charles hit that one instead, his golden rounds knocking it down with a pained groan.

Jack was already starting down the hill, not wanting to wait. The other Cybermen, the two in the ash field, were already on their way. If there were more, they would be too. Charles was close by, on his right. As they bounded down the hill, Jack tore his power pack from his sonic gun, replacing it with another. He was going to need a full clip.

"You will be deleted." The emotionless, robotic drone came from Jack's left. He whipped his head in that direction, instantly seeing another triumvirate of Cybermen marching through the forest. With the pair down the hill, they were going to be flanked, quickly.

Charles was already firing on the new arrivals, galloping sideways as he did. Jack saw one of the Cybermen twitch as it's gun was blown from it's arm in an explosion of blue, and gold sparks. It was unfazed however, as it raised its hand instead, lightning dancing across it's fingertips.

Jack ducked, and ran for cover when it's friends began shooting, a pair of plasma shots grazing past his head. He blindly fired back, hoping to drive them back with suppressive fire. He managed to get behind a tree, another pair of laser shots destroying the branches near him in an explosion of splinters. His eyes bolted down the hill, to the other two, now stomping up to join the fray.

He heard one of the metal men let out a robotic wheeze, and heard it fall with a heavy thunk, another causality of Charles' golden bullets.

Jack glanced around the tree, spotting the last two from the left, still coming forward, ever advancing. Charles was laying down on the other side of a fallen log, peppering shots down the hill.

Jack moved to fire on the leftmost attackers, but boiling pain suddenly erupted through his chest. He suddenly couldn't breathe, the taste of copper in his mouth. One of the Cybermen down hill had been true to it's mark. He tried to manage a shot in return, but he fell backwards instead, everything going black. He couldn't die. Not now, not leave Charles in a lurch like this. His thoughts stopped completely, as he died, one more time.

Searing pain ripped through his lungs as he gasped for breath, sitting bolt upright. The light blinded him for a moment, but his vision adjusted quickly.

He heard the combat before the saw it, the laser shots whumping into the ground, and the crack of them slicing near by trees. Then he heard a loud electrical crash, a blazing, crackling sound he could not even describe.

A pair of electrical sparks springing skywards to his left caught his eyes, and he looked to it. Their sat one of the Cyberman attackers, slumped against a tree, smoking holes in it's silver armor courtesy of Charles' gun. It still twitched as the gold corrupted it's circuits.

His eyes caught one of their fallen attackers, a bit further down the hill. Charles' gun lay near it in a melted pile, but the Cyberman had paid the price. It had a steaming dent, the size, and shape of a cannon ball, in it's chest. The wound sent zaps of yellow sparks as the dying machine tried to rise to it's feet.

Then he finally saw the source of the cacophony.

Charles was down the hill, in combat with the final pair of Cybermen. He held his strange mace in his hands, wreathed in orange lightning. Jack had never seen a weapon quite like that, not in melee at least.

The nearest Cyberman was already injured, with a massive dent in it's steel head. It was tottering on it's feet, it's motions stiff and jerky. It attempted to grab him with one hand, but he slipped aside, easily.

It's partner, this one uninjured, fired at him with it's wrist laser. Charles had managed to manuver the injured cyborg between himself, and the other. It's shot blasted into it's ally knocking it dead, in a bright blast.

Charles didn't waste any time, dodging past the falling robot. He brought down a heavy swing at the other Cyberman.

The robot intercepted it, grabbing the shaft just before the mace hit it, stopping it completely. It's other hand was reaching for Charles, charged for the kill.

The Mecromancer was not so easily stopped. He curled up his right hand, and hit the Cyberman with a heavy, straight, punch to it's head.

A normal man would have only succeeded in breaking his hand, but Charles was far from that. Jack had never expected how strong that cybernetic arm could be, however. It was not enough to truly hurt the steel soldier, but it stumbled backwards from the force, buckling ever so slightly.

It was enough for Charles to wrench free his mace. He spun around, gripping his weapon with both hands, and hit it as hard as he could. With a roar of orange lightning, it collided with the Cyberman's head, knocking it off of it's sturdy feet. If landed stick straight, and dead.

Jack stumbled to his feet, picking up his Villengard Special. He saw Charles wipe the sweat from his brow, taking deep breaths, before tapping his weapon on the ground. The glow sputtered, and died, then the head retracted itself back into the handle.

He turned about, adjusting his glasses, as Jack jogged down the hill toward him. Charles wore a tired smirk.

"Well, we really are indestructible, aren't we? The rumors are true," he tilted his head, "I only half believed it."

Jack only smirked and pointed at the rod in Charles' hand.

"That's one hell of a weapon you have there," he complimented.

"Last Tonitrus in existence," he tapped it with his finger.

"I know you boys are busy being manly, and proud of yourselves, but the last three Cybermen have disappeared off of my scanners," The Corsair's voice abruptly fizzled on in their ears.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Jack asked. He immediately knew that was wrong, as Charles had rolled his eyes, and was shaking his head.

"No, that means there somewhere my scanners cant penetrate, like a giant TARDIS Tomb perhaps," she replied dryly.

"That's code for hurry," Charles added. Jack nodded. That was always the way with anything that involved The Doctor, everything went a hundred miles an hour.

"Well... as an old friend used to say..." Jack nodded, "Allonsey!"

* * *

"No! No get off of me!" Sarah Jane's screams reverberated through the room, her feet sliding uselessly across the floor. She could not resist. She could not pull herself free. She struggled in vain against the squirming, wriggling mass of Chronal Tumor.

The pair of tendrils that licked her arms had fully wrapped themselves around to her biceps, pinning her arms to her sides. Now they were interlocking across her chest. The thick tentacle had wound itself around her legs, paralyzing her. She twisted, and bucked her shoulders, to no avail.

"I told The Doctor, I would have my revenge!" The boy Master taunted, "but I never thought it would be so sweet." The rotted face in the console seemed to smile with it's mouth tear. The entire Tumor quivered, and twitched. The moment she reached that console it was going to engulf her. Would she even know it? Would she even remember it? Would she even exist if he took her body?

First she thought of The Doctor. He would blame himself. He would be alone. He needed someone, to steady him. To help him. To make him see himself when he couldn't.

She thought then of Luke, and Sky. They wouldn't even know what happened to her. She would never look into their eyes again, hear their voices call her Mom.

No. He was not taking her from her children. They needed her. She didn't have a her mother, and she'd be damned if her children had to feel that. Maybe in a few decades, but not now.

She was needed. She mattered. Her children needed her. The Doctor needed her.

She struggled as much as her body would allow her. She thrashed, and grunted like an animal in a trap. She was not going down without a fight, not like this. If he wanted her body, she wasn't giving it over without a fight.

She wrenched her arms back, and forth, feeling the tendrils starting to weaken. She started, forcing her arms away from her body, seeing them starting to loose their grip and separate.

"What are you doing?" The child Master shouted. His black eyes blazed in fury. The tumor was no longer pulling as hard, instead trying to gain back it's grip. "Stop it! Give up!"

"I don't think so," she struggled, through gritted teeth. Her arms were almost free from her side. If only she could just move them a little more.

A shrill, screeching, screaming noise filled the room. It was iron claws racking down a chalkboard, mixed with a police siren. It went through her head like a nail. If she wasn't wrapped up, she would have cringed.

The flesh of the Chronal Tumor shook, and quaked. It's grip relented, the constriction releasing from her thighs, and arms. Her ears rung as it's pitch rose.

Toxic water splashed into her face as the creature thrashed in pain, it's tentacles retreating, through the muck to it's host. Every blob, and boil, every tendril along the walls and floor shook, and seized.

She pounced on her opportunity, backing up. She had no idea where the sound came from, but it had saved her. She could see the rotten face in the middle contorted in pain.

She spotted it, her prize, beneath the pus-lake. She didn't even think about it, now that such a creature had attempted to absorb her. She thrust her hand beneath the surface, and pulled up the gun. Now she just needed to leave.

Then she saw her savior, in the doorway opposite to where she had entered. He stood with his screwdriver in the air, the green tip lit up like a Christmas tree. He had a toothy grin on his face, his blue eyes clear, and bright.

As she had so many times, she ran to The Doctor, and he motioned for her to follow with his wrinkled hand. That was not a problem at all. Quicker the better.

They ran into the rusted hall, and he finally lowered his Screwdriver, the hellish sound stopping. Her ears still rung, and it she could feel the migraine coming in her future.

"Thank you Doctor!" she realized she was yelling, half deaf from the sonic screwdriver.

"I wasn't about to let Mister Tentacles back there eat you!" The Scotsman returned. He always came when she needed him. Always.

"I got the Epoch Lens Barrel!" She held up her slimy prize.

"Wonderful, now to..."

The duo rounded the corner, coming face to face with a man in striking, silver armor, with a glowing light in his chest. If took Sarah Jane a moment for her brain to process it was a Cyberman, before it raised it's wrist.

"Doctor found. Deleting." It droned. There were two more behind it, guns raised.

The old Time Lord leapt straight in the air with a yell, two blue shots flying past his, and Sarah's heads. He pointed his screwdriver at their attacker with one hand, grabbing Sarah's wrist with the other. The low warble accompanied him dragging her back around the corner.

The corridor shook as they ran, with a boom, a cloud of smoke erupting from around the corner

"Since when are the Cybermen here?" Sarah shouted.

"Since now!" The Doctor replied.

"Wait! We' re going back..." she was already shaking her head violently. She would rather take her chances with the Cybermen.

"Mister Tentacles, I know." She glanced back, seeing the first Cybermen stomping quickly around the corner, the steel of it's chest blackened with soot, it's gun a sparking mess. It's opposite hand was alight with electric energy.

On second thought, Mister Tentacles wasn't so bad. She instinctively ducked as a blue bolt steaked past her. The Doctor attempted to point back with his screwdriver, but another bolt whizzed over is right shoulder, followed by a sizzling electrical ball.

They skidded into the Master's disgusting console room, the familiar, rotten smell greeting them. The Chronal Tumor seemed to wriggle at they as they ran in, like a disturbing wave hello.

They ran across the console room, passed the Chronal Tumor. Sarah managed to remove her sonic screwdriver from her pocket, just in case it attempted to grab her again.

The Cybermen were right behind them, entering with a volley of lightning, and laser shots. She ducked back, putting the Master's console between herself, and The Cybermen.

An electrical bolt it the tumor, and it responded with a guttural growl. She saw The Doctor stand firm, his screwdriver pointed at one of the un-injured cyborgs. It's wrist-gun abruptly turned as it fired, its shot screaming into the chest of it's partner. With an explosion of sparks, it was blown into the wall, a massive burned hole in it's chest.

But then the Chronal Tumor started an attack of it's own, it's tendrils whipping out toward the burned robot. It fired on the beast to no avail, as it was yanked into the console by force.

Unlike Sarah Jane, was pulled fully. She watched in horror, as the Chronal Tumor overtook it, coating it in it's rubbery, rotted flesh. Electronic groans of protest escaped it, but it did no good as it was overtaken. The other Cyberman fired at it's former partner.

A pair of blue shots hit it's partner in the back, but the skin merely overlapped it, healing it in a wave of sludge. It retaliated, firing a single ball of lightning from it's hand, sending the other Cyberman flailing to the floor with a splash. The Tumor continued it's work.

It was time to leave. She turned around, seeing The Doctor just staring. His bushy eyebrows were raised, mouth open a bit. It looked like something between wonder, and disgust.

"Let's go!" She yelled, yanking him by the arm. It took him a few steps to turn, and run, as they exited out of the hall she had entered from. They ran down the hall, with her leading the way, back the way the child Master had taken her.

"What was that thing doing?" She shouted to The Doctor. She lit her screwdriver, so they could see in the dark halls. The Doctor was just behind her. She had a feeling she knew. It was The Master taking a new body. This one a Cyberman. Was it truly possible? She did not know. She heard he had stolen a form before.

"I've never seen anything like that. I have no idea!" The Time Lord shouted back. "We can't let it leave though, whatever it is."

They twisted, and turned through more darkened halls, hoping to find the way back. They needed to leave. Sarah admitted she was done with Time Lord tombs for one day. She was getting too old for all of this.

They rushed up a set of stairs, then The Doctor grabbed elbow, pulling her down a corridor she had passed.

"Do you smell that?" He asked, smacking his winking screwdriver in his palm, "Fresh air." Truthfully all she could smell was the stagnant rot of the console room. It was trapped in her nose, and she imagined that she clothes reeked of it.

"That doesn't make any sense!" She replied, as they jogged in that direction, "we could barely get anywhere in here before. Why would it let us out?"

"It's not letting us out, his TARDIS is trying to let The Master out.," replied The Time Lord. "All of that hallway business before was to separate us, so that one of us would get caught, and he could take someone's body. Now he wants out."

"How are we going to stop him?" Sarah didn't even ask if he had a plan.

"I'm working on that." The Doctor shrugged, "right now I'm between throwing fruit, and building a flux generator out of scrap."

"Neither of those sound viable!" She argued.

"You asked if I had a plan. You didn't ask for a good plan." She just shook her head in utter disbelief. Only he would say that sort of thing. He was lucky she knew him so well...

They rounded a corner, and the tarnished entry room was before them. The door to the outside was still open, and she could see daylight trickling in. They were almost out. As they entered the room, they heard the footsteps behind them.

It was the all too familiar chunk-chunk of a Cyberman, but she could hear a stomach turning squelching noise that accompanied it. She looked at The Doctor, who looked at him. He nodded, aiming his screwdriver up toward the hall. She did the same. They would at least be united, as they always were.

The monster came into view, and she immediately sneered in disgust. It resembled one of the Master's, the old, dark haired one, with the moustache, but it was more grotesque. The skin was rippling, and sliding in some places, the texture reminding her of melting wax. It had formed a mockery of his black jumpsuit from skin, this too looking all wrong.

His face was the worst. It did not correctly fit over the Cyberman head, so it still retained the box like shape. The dead eyes were too far apart, and his mouth stretched across his cheeks. The handles sticking up from the skin-hair made her own skin crawl. His moustache was a black Tenticle, wriggling like a worm.

It walked stiffly forward. raising one hand up. The electric blue light was shining through the putty like skin on his palm.

"You will let me leave, Doctor," The Master's voice was had been replaced by the robotic drone of the Cyberman.

"Come on... you're better than this," she could hear the sadness cracking through his voice. The Master was once his friend, after all.

"You owe this to me," The flesh abomination defended.

"I do owe you something but it isn't this," she saw him tilt his head, his mouth in a straight line. It was his eyes though. She could see a tear, just in the left one.

"You killed me! You caused my death!" The Cyberman voice replied loudly.

"No..." the Doctor trailed, "I can guarantee... that whatever happened, you killed you."

"Then you will die. I am sorry, my old friend." With that, a ball of lightning ripped through the skin. The Doctor was quick, ducking.

"Outside, get outside!" he yelled. She ducked back, as another shot zapped into the wall.

She ran out on The Doctor's heel, through the door, gripping her screwdriver in one hand, and the Epoch Lens fragment in the other.

Abruptly she slammed into The Doctor's back, as he collided with someone else. They all stumbled forward, her landing on top of her Time Lord, rolling off into the grassy soil. The Doctor was laying on top of Jack, both with a surprised look on their respective faces. Charles had managed to avoid the whole catastrophe. Both were coated in brown stains from dirt, and the green remnants of grass. Jack had a hole burned in his shirt, and Charles had a cut above his left eye. She briefly wondered what they were doing here. It looked like they had been in a scrum. The Cybermen? There were other things to worry about.

"Hey sailor," joked the former Time Agent.

"No time! "shouted the Scottish Time Lord, skittering to his feet, aiming his screwdriver back at the open door, at the monster within. She jumped to her feet as well, doing the same.

"What the hell is that!" Charles yelled, pointing a thick finger. Their enemy, in it's suit of flesh, came walking to the door, standing in the door way.

"Woah!" Jack yelled holding up his gun, his eyes wide.

Strangely, the Master, or whatever he was now, didn't move, and just stood still instead. Jack was about to fire, when a warble came from The Doctor's sonic, stopping him. He innefectively clicked the trigger, then glanced to him befuddled.

"Don't Jack." Was his only reply.

They all stood, staring as the flesh-thing attempted to move beyond, but couldn't. It's patchwork hand raised, as if to push a wall that did not exist.

"Why. I do not understand..." the robot beneath the skin. It had no inflection, but still somehow seemed mournful to Sarah.

"What is that thing?" Jack whispered through the side of his mouth.

"The Master," snapped The Doctor. He addressed, his old enemy now, "yes... you do."

"What have you done?" he asked, pushing harder.

"I haven't done anything. You did," The Doctor replied, "this is your final place of rest, old friend. It won't let you leave." The Master stood still for a few moments, his rotted face staring blankly.

"This tumor... it is not all of you," he pointed with the sonic screwdriver at the rot encompassing his body. "Part of your soul is still there, in you're TARDIS. Those parts will forever be fractured, by everything you did, and will do. You can't take one, and leave the other."

"Help me," were his only words.

"I want to. I wish I could," The Doctor half-heartedly smiled. More tears were now rolling from his deep, blue eyes. "I know you would burn the universe everywhere you went, but I would let you out anyway. I would still try to fix you."

"Then do it." If a Cyberman's voice could plead, he would have.

"I can't... not anymore." The Doctor took a deep breath, holding up his sonic screwdriver.

The warble started, raising to that same deafening scream she had heard in the console room. Jack and Charles recoiled, and Sarah stuck her fingers in her ears, buffering it slightly.

The flesh quivered, spasms running through it. It spread, and stretched, before finally ripping itself from the burned Cyberman. It landed on the floor with a wet slap, and slithered away, back into the dark, from where it came.

The ashen Cyberman teetered on his feet, before falling backwards. It crashed to the floor, stiff, and dead. The Doctor thumbed his screwdriver off.

Then, the shadows started to appear, drifting out from the black, one by one. They came into the light of the doorway, illuminating them. First came the Master with the moustache, and the slick, salt, and pepper hair. Then came the burned man, in the dark hood. He was followed by the pale, bald regeneration. Others followed.

One in a leather jacket, with sunglasses. Another with a trimmed beard, and brown, thinning hair. She recognized the woman in the hat, and the long dress, as well as the one with the grin who once called himself Harold Saxon. He stood next to a chubby, older man with stark white hair. Behind him was the cruel child.

More began to come forward, these she hadn't seen. One man with dark curls, and a waistcoat. Another had a thick beard, and a beret. She saw one dressed in the red robes of a Time Lord, and another in a bowler hat with a cane. One of the others was young, with shaggy, blond, hair. Another looked ancient, crumpled over, barely able to stand. Where these all him? All of these were The Master? More shadows lurked behind, but she could not make them out.

"Doctor... Torchwood doesn't have any of those on file. I know the face of every known Master." Jack muttered, his eyes locked on them.

"They may be past regenerations we don't know about. They could be his possible futures. Depending on events that transpire, some of them may not even exist," The Doctor answered, his eyes darting from face to face. They all just stared at him.

"For what it's worth... I'm sorry," The Doctor sighed. He shook his head, looking at his feet, then back at The Masters, "I never wanted it to be this way. Never."

"Look at that. You did say something nice." Missy smiled. The Doctor pointed his screwdriver at the door, and pressed the button.

With a whine, the door slammed shut. The Doctor still stared at it anyway. Sarah couldn't fathom how he felt in that moment. What do you say to someone you care about, who you killed, and who killed you? With him, that was very literal, yet figurative as well.

"Now what?" Jack asked. He too seemed disturbed, though not like The Doctor. The old Time Lord turned around, and shrugged. A smile, one that did not reach his eyes, spread across his face.

"One piece to go"


	22. History of Violence

_(Author's Note: Alright, so, I've been very excited for this chapter for a long time. This chapter has alot of Corsair, and alot of information on her background. This chapter is the truth of her. I need to thank my best friend MirricatBlackwood for this one. We came up with all of the previous regenerations together. These are as much hers as they are mine._ _It was a fun night when we did that. Enjoy everyone)_

The Doctor slid his hand through his sweaty, grey spines of hair. He trekked up the grassy, overgrown hill, coming to it's peak. There sat his blue phone box, his TARDIS. She was right where he had left her. It still made him smile, looking at her, even after all of this time.

A smile was hard to come by right now. The Master haunted his walk back to his ship. What he had become, in the end. It was even worse than he had ever dreamed in his wildest nightmare. How corrupted had he become to turn into that? Half ghost, half symbiot. He had heard of some cases of Time Lords, in death, changing.

Some turned into a scar, a reflection of the paradox's they caused. That was his own, eventual fate. Others wound up trapped in their own machines, like The Master. A prison of their own making. Others just... died. They were only a corpse; no pomp or circumstance.

He had never heard of one who had half-way become a Chronal Tumor. Perhaps his experiments were more deranged than he had ever realized. He may have learned something from one of the many books he possessed in his library. Perhaps he believed it would keep him alive but it was unsuccessful. He wondered if he returned, if he could discover what he had done. Undo it.

He wondered if he could be saved. If events played out differently, would he end up the same? What if he intervened somehow? Could he save him from his fate? He did not know. Only time would tell.

He would only have that time if he put this out of his head, for now. He looked back at his motley crew of ruffians that followed him. Sweet Sarah Jane trudged behind, screwdriver in one hand, Epoch Lens Barrel in the other.

Her shoulders were slumped, dark circles rimming her eyes. Her clothing was crusted with dried slime stains. She looked exhausted. Or hungry... he had a difficult time telling the difference.

Jack was next to her. He looked the same as ever; grinning like an idiot while talking-non stop. It annoyed him sometimes how flippant he could be. The man's heart was good though, and in the right place. He did mean the best for everyone, even if he did it the wrong way at times.

It was Charles he was unsure of. The last known Mechromancer. He had seen terrible things. Done terrible things. The Doctor saw the way he eyed him when he thought he wasn't looking. Sometimes it was with confusion, like someone trying to work out a math problem. Other times it was bitter hate, and resentment. He couldn't blame him for either one.

Something was amiss ahead. Sitting next to his TARDIS was a structure that had not been there when he last left. It looked like a small temple of some kind. It was weathered by time, the stone looking blasted, and faded from constant weather. If he had to guess, it was about two thousand years old. It looked like it was going to disintegrate at any moment.

It took him no time to work it out. That was The Corsair's TARDIS. Obviously, her chameleon circuit was in functioning order. How unnatural.

As if on cue, she came stepping out, holding a glowing gun in her hand. What was it with these people, and their firearms? He used to argue with the old Corsair about that. Not much had changed, obviously.

"The Cyberman ship is gone," said the redhead. She was talking fast.

"Hello to you too, nice to see that your feeling better," The Doctor replied with a smile. She didn't even miss a beat.

"It was a scout ship. You're obviously still alive, which means they'll be back. With more." He narrowed his eyes at her, looking her up, and down. She didn't look like any Corsair he knew, but she had some of the same mannerisms. The smile. The convincing, charming demeanor. The penchant for firearms.

Even the formal shirt, kilt, boot combo was not out of her stylistic taste. She always went for the ugliest clothing imaginable. He went shopping with a male version of his once. He came home with that foppish, multicolor monster-coat his sixth self loved so much. Plus, she had that stupid snake tattoo.

Her green eyes were hard. They were like steel. The other Corsairs he knew never looked like that. That gaze that cut through your soul like a knife through butter. He saw that look in her eyes sometimes, that look when the gun fire and explosions in one's head just wouldn't stop. When you sit, and listen to the screams for awhile, because there was no choice.

"That's fine, we've got what we came for," replied The Doctor, motioning to his partner, Sarah Jane. "We'll be long gone by the time they show up."

"Good, let's get a move on then," she clapped her hands together, "Morbius is probably almost to the next piece by now."

"So? We've the barrel," Jack smirked, "good luck firing a gun without that." The Doctor sighed, spinning around.

"That," he put his hands together, pointing them at Sarah, "is one barrel. What was Morbius holding when we first met him."

"A barrel..." Jack replied, sheepishly.

"He has the scope," Charles put in.

"Right. Which means what's left?" Sarah Jane pursed her lips, looking with her head lowered. That was her, "You're being rude," look. He knew what that one meant.

"The body obviously," Jack had an edge to his tone.

"And what can we extrapolate from that?" This was elementary, really.

"It still works with one barrel, doesn't it," Jack shook his head, looking frustrated.

"Ding ding, give the man a prize!" He pointed.

"It won't work well. Not without the flow capacitor barrel," Charles pointed the slimy gun part in Sarah's hands.

"Excellent observation Professor Stolen Technology, it won't," The Doctor replied.

"You stole you're TARDIS," Charles shot back.

"He's got you there," Sarah chuckled a bit. He almost smiled himself, just hearing her laugh, but he held it back.

"He only needs one. That's the point. End of discussion," The Corsair, cut in, holding up one hand. "Which means we need to hurry."

The Doctor looked at Sarah, and her slumped posture. He was feeling the fatigue too... it felt like he was carrying bags of sand on his shoulders. He could do that. He was a Time Lord. She was a human, who had probably been awake for well over forty-eight hours.

The Corsair was right though, they had to hurry. Regardless, they had some time. He hoped. He had a few things to sort out anyway.

"Sarah needs to shower, and rest," he wasn't about to have her walking around all slimy. That was just wrong.

"Doctor, I'm fine," Sarah protested. He held out one finger.

"Doctors orders."

The Corsair nodded, shrugging a bit.

"I think we can manage that. Morbius is still recovering, I'd reckon."

"Besides... I think it's time you, and I have a talk, Time Lord to Time Lord." She nodded her curly haired head.

"Agreed." He knew where they would go. She would know it, if she was who she said she was.

"I'll meet you where you found me the first time, one hour after" The Doctor smiled at her. Much to his surprise, she smiled back.

"You mean when the Time Lords sent me after you? And you convinced me to steal this loaner, and run instead?" She chuckled, smacking her hand against the side of the temple TARDIS. He nodded.

"That's the one." Maybe she was The Corsair after all.

"Alright, don't leave a girl waiting. I may be a ginger but I'll definitely be gone after two decades." He only gave her a glare.

"I'm going with her, if it's all the same to you, and if she'll have me," Charles announced, walking past The Doctor, and Jack, to The Corsair. "I'd like to take another look at that Heretic Code."

"Be my guest, the more the merrier," The Corsair chirped.

"I wont stop you," The Doctor shrugged. Charles didn't like him. It was obvious. It did not particularly matter to him either way.

"Ill see you soon," nodded the Time Lord. The lady nodded back. The Doctor opened the creaking door to his time machine, and stepped inside. The Time Roater immediately lit up pure amber as he did. His girl was happy to see him.

Sarah Jane, and Jack followed closely behind, with the latter shutting the door. The Doctor walked down the steps, to the console. He yanked across the hanging screen, and began at the levers and switches.

"You did not need to do that Doctor, I'll be alright," Sarah Jane's voice came behind him. He toggled another switch, and turned to her. Even in the moody dark of his TARDIS she was filthy with slime, and looked even more exhausted.

"Yes I did," he walked to her, a kind smile appearing on his face, "and I don't want any arguments, young lady. Get yourself washed up, and straight to bed. I'll wake you when it's time. No sooner, no later."

"You promise you won't leave me behind?" She was looking at him sideways.

"After you practically killed me last time?" laughed the Scotsman, "I should think not."

"You best remember that," she winked, slugging him playfully in the shoulder. She finally turned around, walking up the steps, and down the hall. He watched her the whole way, just to be sure she left.

He turned about, continuing with the console. He just had to re-enter the date, and they were off.

"I'm right you know..." Jack started. The Doctor had almost forgotten he was there, leaning against the rail. "About The Corsair."

"I believe you." The Doctor replied. He ticked on a few keys, then yanked back the main lever. That wheezing groan began, the ticking and flashing starting as they dematerialized.

"About her?" He sounded surprised. The Doctor shook his head.

"I believe that you believe her," he smiled at the Time Agent as he turned about.

"What do you believe," Jack narrowed his eyes.

"The universe has taught me to be open minded. I believe it is an improbable story. I believe I should think she's lying. I believe it's almost impossible for someone to break through the walls of any universe, let alone multiple ones."

"That doesn't..." he held up one finger.

"But," he said loudly, suddenly flashing a toothy grin, "I've done all those things so..." he waved his hand, beckoning Jack to finish.

"Why can't she," he nodded.

He had indeed had time to think it over, in on their trek through the jungle, and in the Tomb of the Master. Sarah had made an excellent point, as she often did. He asked them to believe the impossible on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis.

He had seen two thousand years pass. He had seen the moon hatch like an egg. He had seen a sun that devoured memories. Statues that move. Crystals that sing to sharks. A Time Agent that couldn't die. Averted a future grave he had once visited. He had broken Time Locks, and the rules of regeneration. He stole a TARDIS, and ran, and ran, and ran, when everyone told him it was impossible.

Was it really so out of the realm of possibility for her to be who she was? For someone who was two thousand years old, he realized how closed minded he could be at times. He blamed his age.

"Yes. I just need to be sure. And I can't be until I've spoken to her." He needed to see her face to face. To sit, and talk to her.

The TARDIS shook, followed by a deep clunk. He looked at the screen. He was an hour late. He shrugged. She was a Time Lord, too. She would understand. They were never on time, not really.

He stepped away from the console, adjusting his dark jumper, walking towards the door.

"Good luck." Jack nodded.

"I won't need it. I've got skill." he replied sarcastically.

He opened the TARDIS door, the loud creak accompanying his exit. He smiled as he walked out.

He was by a clear lakeside. The beautiful water shown in the noon sun, glittering calmly. The forest around him was alive with the singsong of birds. Cicadas droned out their own tune. It took them seventeen years to finally sing it. They made the most of it.

The wind rustled through the birch trees as he walked out. He saw her there, sitting on a log, in front of the lake, her red head of hair facing away from him.

This was where he had met up with a version of her, a long time ago. It was almost fitting they met here again. As he walked up, she turned around, giving him a big grin. He recognized that grin, just from a different face

"It's about time you showed up," she greeted, "You're two hours late."

"I figured an hour here, or their wouldn't kill you," the Scotsman replied with a light shrug.

"You took a risk asking me here, you know. Alternative universes are funny. How did you know this event would be the same in your past here, as it was in mine?"

"I didn't," he admitted," he sat down on the rough log next to her, "but I figured an alternate me wouldn't be all that different from this one." He couldn't be sure about that but he was trying anyway.

"How long has it been for you? Since we were last here?" She asked him. Her green eyes seemed to scan his face, looking for answers to more than that question.

"Let's see," he puzzled. It was an issue, sometimes, remembering exactly when some of the things he had done had happened. Two thousand years of life will do that. "You were in you're first regeneration, and I was on my... second. So... it must be seventeen hundred years, give, or take a century."

"It's been about thirteen hundred for me," she rubbed her face with her hands, shuffing her hair aside. The Doctor smiled.

"You're older than The Corsair in this universe." He had only survived to around nine hundred years before his death upon a living asteroid.

"Do you remember what we talked about? When I found you here?" she asked him, her gaze looking back over the lake. A male version at the time, the Time Lords wanted The Corsair to bring The Doctor back, for trial. The Doctor convinced him otherwise.

"I do," he nodded. It may have been a long time ago indeed, but that talk stuck with him, "I believe I told you we had a responsibility to stop terrible things. Things that were grown in the darkest corners of reality. The other Time Lords don't see that, but that was because they hadn't come out here to see true suffering, and pain."

"My version of you didn't say exactly that, but that sums it up," she nodded. She now looked back at him, her green eyes staring into his deep blues.

"Do you still believe that?"

"Is that even a question you need to ask?" She just smiled at him for a moment, then became serious again.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner," she apologized, "I wanted to. It's just... I'm trying to change the things I know could happen." She tried to explain. He understood what she meant. Jack had said something similar. It felt like an eternity ago, back in David's oddity shop. Foreknowledge was indeed a dangerous thing. He had expressed the same sentiment.

Now things were progressing. He could feel it. She could too. The time for mystery was over.

"By things, you mean The Great Intelligence destroying the universe?" He wanted to get this all straight before he started. Jack had told him some, but not enough. He wanted to hear it with his own ears. See it with his own eyes.

"Yes. I've been trying to stop him for a long time. I get closer but I never actually succeed at it." She was candid, the way she spoke. She wasn't sugar coating any of this.

"And each time, you fail. Why? What does he do?" He needed to know, if he was to understand. If he was to stop him. She obviously needed help, Corsair, or not.

"His army will be infinite. It is an army of corrupted Daleks, and Cybermen. If things are progressing as they have before, he is nearly ready to begin."

"Begin what?" She was being cryptic. He didn't like cryptic.

"Experimenting with Time Traveling. He already has a Vortex Manipulator. He's attempting to reverse engineer it on a massive scale. He uses it to create something superior to the Time Corridor technology The Daleks poses already." He was already understanding where this was going.

"He wants to be able to transport an entire army, instantly," he nodded. For what purpose, though? War? To bring the order he so steadfastly wanted? Or something else.

"And he will learn that. I don't know how he does it but he creates something superior to both. A method of travel no one has ever seen. It starts small. He will only be able to send small forces, then a ship or two." She shook her head looking down, then at him.

"A ship of Cybermen is more than enough to kill an entire civilization. Not even counting the Daleks in." They were two of the most capable militaristic forces in the known universe. Both, experts in genocide.

"He doesn't have enough to do anything yet, not really. Their aren't enough infected Daleks, and his Cybermen are weak. His army right now are mostly made up of Spoonheads. He has sent infiltration units across the cosmos. He has eyes everywhere. I've slowed him as much as I can, but I can't stop it." She was shaking. It was slight, but he could see it. She was scared. The Corsair, if that was who she really was, was scared.

"How does he do it? How does he destroy everything?" She looked up at him, the ghost of a smile on her rose lips.

"You're more direct than the other you's," she mused for a moment, "he is trying to bring order. That is main objective."

"He told me that, in the Time War Containment Authority," he confirmed. This all jelled together so far.

"He always tries to recruit you. It never works. If you're wondering," she took a deep breath.

"It doesn't work like he thinks it will. The universe, other races, are more resilient than he thinks. His first victories are easy. Then they fight back. Military's, normal people, everyone."

"No one wants to be annihilated, or overtaken," it wasn't in anyone's nature. People have a will to live, no matter what planet they are from.

"When he starts losing, he devises something even deadlier. He starts attacking the same place, in different times." The Doctor shook his head. That wouldn't bring him what he wanted either.

"All that will do is destroy timelines, and cause paradoxes. It's insane."

"Exactly!" she shouted standing up. Such dramatics. "See, he's fine with that. A timeline destroyed is order to him. No one to rebel. No one to resist. Some planets are devoured by the paradoxes, others are frozen in a single moment, like a snow globe, with nothing existing before or after."

The Doctor sat in silence, for a moment, and shut his eyes.

This was worse than his worst nightmare. He never expected someone like The Great Intelligence to be capable of this. This insanity. He was a creature of pure intellect, and arrogance, not a madman. Not someone bent on destroying everything, and everyone.

Then he saw it. The Great Intelligence never saw it that way. He saw it as order. As salvation. The very concept of nothingness was, to him, more enticing than the chaos that the universe was. It was, in reality, the perfect order. Non-existence was order.

It was a good thing The Doctor hated order.

"All that is left is him, and even he is eaten by it in the end, when it all collapses," she sat back down with a thud, face in her hands. She wiped her eyes, his seeing the ghosts of tears glistening down her cheeks.

His hearts broke for her. She had lost everything. How many times had she lost it all? How many people had she lost? How many times had her hearts been shattered by this war? A war she fought alone. He could see that now, more than ever before.

He knew what that felt like. He knew more than anyone else.

"It eventually collapses because of the paradoxes," he deduced. He knew more than a thing or two about paradoxes. "He's punching a hole in the fabric of reality with every timeline he destroys. You and I, we do that all the time, when we travel through time and space. When we change things. But..." she was nodding right now. He did not need her confirmation. He knew he was right.

"We're like poking someone with a pin. It heals, quickly. The universe fills it in. It can't do it with an entire timeline." She cocked her head, allowing him to continue.

"One or two isn't that bad. Not really. There's an entire universe out there," he made a ball with his hands, looking up at the sky. "It's when you do it to a whole solar system. Then a galaxy. Then two." He squinched his eyes, deep in thought as he looked at the cloudless perfection above them. "What starts as a hole, becomes a tear, then multiple tears, then a gash, then a wound. And it just keeps getting bigger."

"Until it sucks everything down with it." She finished for him. He returned his gaze to her. He closed his eyes, and pinched his nose. This was worse than he ever thought. It exacerbated it that, if she was to be believed, she had seen it already, over, and over.

If that was the case, could it be stopped? What if this was unavoidable? What if this was the inevitable end, of it all? Everything ended... no matter how much one held on to it. What if it was in vain.

He shook his head. It was better to try in vain than fail doing nothing. Rage against the dying of the light. There were innocent people in this, innocent people with no concept of time paradoxes, and the universe's mechanics. People who were spread across the universe. People that were normal. People who ate lunch, and slept in beds, and had children, and made jokes about their coworkers behind their backs. People with lives.

People who deserved to live. He clamped his hands into fists.

He would give them that chance. Even if it was his final action. His final breath.

"So... you believe me then?" she finally asked. He realized how long they had been silent, and he had been staring at her this whole time.

He did. He did not necessarily trust her, but he believed her. He needed to be sure, however. Sure this was where he was going to walk. There was only one way.

"I do. But I need to see it. Show me." She narrowed her green orbs angling her head back.

"What are you getting at?"

"You know exactly what I'm getting at." He wouldn't do it otherwise, not if it wasn't necessary.

"That's very dangerous. You seeing that... it could cause things that may not happen to happen," she warned.

"Maybe," he shrugged his boney shoulders, "what have you got to lose, at this point?"

"I'd say quite a bit..." she left it hang.

"It's all going to happen anyway. May as well let me see some spoilers."

She looked at him, something between confused and unsure plastered on her face. Her eyes darted to the lake, then back. She gave him a single nod, then flashed that rogue's smile.

"You've never asked me this before. All of the you's, in all of the universes, you never did this."

"I can't tell if I need to be insulted," he smirked back.

"No... you don't." She turned so her body was facing him, and he did the same toward her. "Just... one thing."

"What's that?" he asked, cocking an eye brow.

"Don't judge me, for what I've done."

"Never," he smiled reassuringly.

The Corsair leaned in, her and hands reaching out, resting in the grey spines on the sides of his head. He did the same, his entangling through her thick curls. They both shut their eyes, their foreheads resting together.

It was not like doing this with a human. When he shared memories with Sarah Jane, it took an effort. There was concentration involved. Not so with another Time Lord. It was nearly instantaneous, her thoughts, her feelings, racing through him.

He felt her. Her joy. Her love. Her wonderful bewilderment at the universe.

Her sorrow. Her fear. Her hate. Rage. So much rage. Her body boiled with it. It was in her blood. Her soul. Then came the memories.

He saw the original Corsair. He recognized that one. That had a duplicate in his own universe. He was tall, and tan. He dressed like a pirate from the late sixteen-hundreds. His coat was as black as the night sky, with a wide, feathered hat to match. The Ouroburos tattoo was always visible on his chest.

He disobeyed the Time Lords. He explored, both time, and space, TARDIS shaped like a treasure galleon. He walked the most distant reaches of space, and wandered worlds no other had walked. Leant a navigating hand to the lost, and a vengeful one to those he called foe. The Doctor saw himself, his second, and third self. A shared adventure on Io Seven, and a chance meeting on Parakythisis. He remembered these meetings in his own universe.

"I bet you five hundred doubloons I can beat you in a duel, Kid!" The English -accented pirate gloated. The bullet pierced his chest. He convulsed as he crawled aboard his TARDIS.

"This is a bunch of bull-" he didn't finish as he exploded in a flash of gold.

The next wandered on. This one, The Doctor remembered as well. The bespectacled professor, fond of sweaters, ties, and trimmed goatees. He studied the laws of time. His interests lay more in books than adventure. They brought him to oddities like the Starless Cascade, and the Bronze Rift.

"Give me your money!" The man shouted from behind. His studies did not help him as the robber slid the knife between his ribs. He stumbled into his TARDIS, sending it flying away from the nineteen-forties.

"Get the tattoo somewhere else than the ankle..." he gurgled, then gold light overtook him.

The frizzy-haired blond stumbled from her piano-shaped TARDIS. There was the sign, above her; Haight-Ashbury.

The Doctor knew that insufferable woman, always gallivanting about in peasant dresses, and bright skirts. Her bracelets and beads clinked at every move, and her tattoos practically covered her from the neck down.

The woman he viewed here, however, lived a far different life than the one he knew. It began the same, flying about time, and space, willy-nilly, and free. Constant mischief, constant fun. Exploration of the senses, and all things beautiful.

Then she fell upon the slaughter of Prometha. Where The Corsair of his world left, this one stayed. This one saw the genocide at the hands of the Ogrons, and changed. This one fought them. This one saved people. This one changed from a travelling party girl. This one found a calling.

Despite her appearance as a hippie, she was the defender of the innocent. She acquired an assistant, Joe, a World War Two fighter pilot, plucked from the brink in nineteen forty-five. Her friend, turned lover. The Doctor saw them defeat the Sontarans on Mars, and thwart the Cybermen on the colony of Goros Six. Behind the heart shaped glasses were eyes determined to see the innocent saved. Terrible vengeance was brought to the wicked. Her technicolor TARDIS became a symbol of hope. She lived a century longer than the one The Doctor knew. Her life was far different.

The Daleks invaded England. The Doctor, and Unit fought in that fight. So did The Corsair. He watched as the trundling, screaming death machine rolled through the doors of an elementary school.

Then her TARDIS, the colorful Volks Wagon Bus, landed.

"You will not touch them!" She shouted, shielding the children. She and Joe fought.

"Exterminate!" The scream echoed as Joe became a neon skeleton. The children escaped as she died next.

"I didn't want to do this," she slurred as she crawled on the floor, "but you will not hurt them." Her golden explosion took the Daleks with her.

The man that stood was the first of The Corsairs The Doctor did not know. The battle was over, his only friend was gone. He flew through time alone.

This one was strapping, and muscular. His fondness for Earth, Norse Culture was evident. His red hair was worn in long braids. His beard was the same. He too shared a fondness for body modification, his Ouroburos tattoo again on his chest. The Valkut knot on his back was new, however.

He was born in war, and did not wish to see anymore of it. The Doctor saw his quiet contemplations and meditation. He saw him strive to help others, without combat or bloodshed. He stopped Weeping Angels in Amsterdam. He stopped a man from tampering with the reality bending Silversmith Mirror.

He adopted a human couple, a pair of physicists, Nick and Morgan Tassitor. They ran across the universe together.

They ran because the Time War raged in the reaches of the galaxy. The Time Lords wished The Corsair to fight. He refused. He had lost his taste for war. Lost his taste for violence.

The news came when The Time Lords died. His old friend, The Doctor had done it. They were the last of their kind. He never told the Tassitor's any of it. It was better for them to not know.

The memories flashed ahead, and there he stood. The man with the top hat. The Great Intelligence.

"The Doctor is dead, and you can do nothing!" He gloated.

"You are wrong. If he has fallen, then I will stop you," he replied in kind.

He had no taste for war, and war this was. He was unprepared for the onslaught. Cybermen, and Daleks destroyed Earth. Spoonheads annihilated Mars. Sontar, Raxicorafalipritorious, New Earth; one by one, every planet fell like dominoes. Paradoxes tore across the universe like open sores. The Reapers could not fix them. Could not heal them. No one could.

"What are we going to do?" Nick yelled at him, inside his TARDIS, "the stars are going out!"

"There's nothing left, is there?" his wife, Morgan cried. The Corsair stared at a screen of his TARDIS.

"I've made the calculations. It can work. There is only one thing to do. Find a universe parallel to this one, and break into it." He didn't want to. Never did he want that.

"And where will our place be? Hm?" Nick asked, "there will be other versions of us? What do we do? Take over their lives?"

The Corsair shook his head. "There is no alternative, none other than death. We'll find a way... I'm so sorry." Tears rolled down his face as space turned black around him. It was all gone, sucked into the void around them. Nothingness was all that remained. He ripped back the lever on his TARDIS.

The TARDIS groaned, and whined. It shook, the console sparking. Flames shot from the controls, and the Time Roater shattered as they smashed violently through the barrier between worlds. Fire engulfed the console room, and The Corsair was thrown to the floor. His head hit the console, hard.

He was passed out as the gold light engulfed him. He, now awoken as a woman, rose to find herself alone. Nick lay in a heap on the ground, killed by the impact, his partner engulfed in flames. Her only friends... gone.

She stepped into an unfamiliar world, one that looked the same. She peeked her head out, having crashed in the early nineteen-fifties, Ohio, Earth.

The woman buried her old friends, dressed in rags of her former life. She fit in, tying up her chocolate hair into a heart-shaped bun, with a ponytail hanging from the back. She found a red halter dress hanging on a clothesline, and took it, along with a pair of boots by a doorstep. These fit her aesthetic this time around anyway.

She then set out across the universe. Things were the same, yet different. The Doctor was present. The Time War was over. Her counterpart had been killed in the Time War, with all other Time Lords.

No signs of the Great Intelligence. She theorized he was a single entity in a single universe. This one was safe.

She landed back in nineteen fifty-five. The Doctor saw her defeat the Zygons who were overtaking a small town. He saw her notice an attractive young man across a small diner, and he waved shyly to her.

It almost did not register to The Doctor, but she seemed to skip ahead suddenly. He only caught blips, shadows of the memories in between. She was dressed in white. A pair of brunette children playing in a yard. The Corsair on her knees, screaming.

"Delete!" Droned the Cybermen, as she fired the rifle. The neighborhood around her was aflame. She screamed as she fired her crimson laser, tears streaming down her porcelain skin.

She was hiding the memories here. He could feel it. Something she didn't want him to see. He felt her pain. Something had broken her hearts, irreparably.

She was in her TARDIS as it shook, smashing through the walls of another universe, her face a mask of anger, and running mascara. Her calculations were more precise this time. It was not as rough of a landing. She survived.

She fought from the start in the next, finding her counterpart dead once again. The Daleks learned to fear the name Corsair. He watched a Cyber-factory go up in flames. A Dalek ship crashed to the soil in a mushroom cloud.

She went to find The Doctor, landing in Victorian England. He saw himself, her, and Sarah Jane, in Vastra's home. Then they were in the workhouse, with Morbius, and his Ravaged. The explosion he remembered tore through the streets. Only The Corsair rose from the ashes. He saw her rip through another universe as it all collapsed around her, smashing her fists into the console in absolute rage.

"You may as well give up, I have won," taunted The Great Intelligence, flanked by a pair of Daleks. She stood atop the Time War Containment Archive. She had followed he, and Sarah Jane there. It ended in his own death. The rocky planet lay below, The Doctor lay dead at her feet. "Kill her."

"I don't think so," she snarled, and stepped off of the building. Her dress billowed around her as she fell. She hit the ground, exploding in golden light.

The next, a grizzled veteran, dressed in olive fatigues, with a thick beard, crashed his TARDIS into the next universe. His face was a constant mask of despair. He saw the connection to The Doctor. If the Doctor fell, so did everything else.

The Doctor watched him dismantle a Dalek, piece by piece, scanning the systems. The red globe came into view. That must have been the Heretic Code. He had found it. He spent decades trying to break it. Failure. He only found failure.

It shifted again. He was in the Time War Containment Authority. He was fighting with Morbius. Morbius hit him, over, and over, and over. The Doctor wished it wasn't a memory, and that he could shut his eyes.

The gold enveloped him, and he was again a woman. The Doctor moved on without. He died, and she knew it was over. She still fought, the Egyptian Time Lady, her hair cut in a dark bob, her skin the color of coffee. She tried to fight, seeing only misery left behind. It ended the same as it always did. She destroyed another wall.

Now adorned with her Ouroburos on her hand, she found The Doctor. It was time for a new tactic. She told him of The Great Intelligence. They set out together to find him, two Time Lords, one goal.

When they did, he possessed the Epoch Lens. Morbius had assembled it, but The Great Intelligence had found him first. The Doctor became a pile of purple dust before her dark eyes. Everything went black as she blasted into another universe.

This time she stayed. She protected him, and Sarah Jane, as they tore through the Time War Authority. Then they saw the Tomb of the Master. They went further this Time.

The Doctor recognized the next place as they landed. He had seen it in the war. The snow swept planet in perpetual winter, with the metal, Dalek tower looming in the distance.

Kallamorvis. The Dalek prison world, for Time Lords. The resting place of the Epoch Lens. He saw himself fall, out of the blasted hole in the top of the tower, to his death, thrown by Morbius.

Her memories went faster now. She no longer showed him the fights, or the frustrations. He saw himself shot, a smoking hole in his chest, in the apex of the Dalek tower.

She broke through another universe again. He was thrown from the tower, dying far below. She broke through again.

Now she was at the Time War Containment Authority. A ball of electricity hit her chest, and she fell to the ground. Her laser shot destroyed the Spoonhead, but the damage was done. Her hearts stopped, and gold light exploded from her.

The new Corsair, garbed in a Victorian corset, skirt and top hat ran on. She tried to save The Doctor, as he fell from the tower, taking Morbius with him. The universe collapsed again around her. Again she protected The Doctor. Again, Morbius did his job, a smoking hole in The Doctor's chest.

"Exterminate!" The call was Dalek, but the voice sounded like a Cyberman. The Corsair was overcome by fire in a horrible explosion. She managed to get to her TARDIS, badly burned, and dying. Everything had begun to collapse again. She fell as she shot her TARDIS through the walls of another universe.

As she awoke, she was now the red-head sitting before him. She stole her clothes from the music festival in which she landed, and went on.

She found a difference, unique to this universe. Torchwood, run by a mysterious figure from another time. The rumors said he was indestructible. She dug through records, finding one that belonged to Unit. One of Rose and Jack, and the Bad Wolf.

Then she found Jack Harkness, in the Dalek Prison. "The uniter of heresies has come. He seeks destruction but will cause the great return instead. One will become warrior while another becomes guardian, blood spilled for blood- so brilliant yet so blind," Dalek Caan cackled. He saw her with him, in the top room of Kallamorvis. She lied to him. She said she had seen The Doctor regenerate. She hadn't. He had died, over, and over. No regeneration. Just death.

With a sudden jolt, she pulled her head away. His mind raced as he came back to reality, sitting on the log in the forest. He had seen centuries of her life, in under ten seconds. She hadn't showed him everything. She didn't show him every fight. Every battle. Every friend she lost. Every Dalek, or Cyberman she killed. She hadn't showed him the battlefields of the future, lest they can be avoided. All but one, at least. Kallamorvis. He did not blame her. He did not need to see her every moment. She had showed him what was important.

One bothered him though. Her fifth life. It wasn't like other events, skipped for the sake of time, or clarity. It was repressed. She held it back, even though it was important. Why? He had a feeling.

"So..." she started quietly, "now do you believe me?"

"I'm sorry... for everything you have been though..." The Scotsman replied. He didn't know how to put it into words. The loss she must feel. The sadness. The anger. He raised a hand to her cheek. "I can't imagine your suffering."

"Do you see now why I sent Jack to find you?" She asked, and he lowered his hand, "I'm trying to save you." He could see the desperation in her green eyes. She wanted things to change this time. She believed they could.

"I do. Why did you lie to him? About seeing me regenerate?" He would have thought she would have told him the truth. The Corsair shook her head.

"I needed him to have hope. What was I supposed to tell him? I've never seen The Doctor survive this at all? Not even regenerate? I needed him to have hope."

"But hope based on lies..." started The Doctor.

"Is still hope. Besides, this from the man whose first rule is 'The Doctor lies," she smirked. She had him there.

"I understand why you left out the battles, the fights..." he started.

"It's redundant," she shrugged.

"But that memory, in your fifth life..." she shook her head. She stood up, crossing her arms, and turned around.

"You don't get to see that one," she had her mouth partially covered, not facing him, "that one is mine. Alone." It was obvious she lost someone. Someone important. Someone she loved. Was that the source of the rage? The source of the pain?

"I've lost people too..." he was trying to comfort, and failing.

"Then we need to make sure it never happens again, to anyone." She turned around. She had kept her composure, but sadness was etched on her face.

"So... Kallamorvis..." he trailed, standing up, "always Kallamorvis?" She nodded.

"Always Kallamorvis." She confirmed, "the timeline there is destroyed, except for one moment. This one. This is the only time we will ever be able to travel there."

"Then I guess we best be on our way," he nodded. He had seen himself die, so many times, through her eyes, in that tower. Was this the end? Was this where his story ended?

No. Not when he knew the stakes. Not when everything relied on him. When everyone did. Sarah, The Corsair, Jack... and trillions of others who would die without him.

He couldn't let them down. He wouldn't.

"I'll meet you there, then," The Doctor nodded. He did the same, closing her eyes.

"Don't die... please," was her only reply.

"I won't." He couldn't. Not today.


	23. The Eve of War

_(Author's Note: This is a bit of a short chapter, more of an introduction to the finale. The next one, will be the last in this story. I am more than a little enthused about people's response to the semi-Corsair centric chapter. It was wonderful to get such supportive feedback on a charcter that I love to write. Anyway, enjoy Outlaw Gents and Shady Ladies)_

"You are out of your mind!" Sarah Jane screamed. The old man, hunched in his coat, and top hat smiled at her instead. The pair of steel Daleks flanked him, guns nearly twitching with desire for the kill.

"Am I?" he replied. He motioned with his hand into the mirror. "Look at it. Look at the universe in which you live. Look at these degenerates who fight me. If only they could see what I could. See the truth." She saw the reflection in the mirror.

She saw the red, spinning planet frozen in time. Gallifray. It was Gallifray.

She bolted upright as she woke up.

"Sarah!" The Doctor shouted in surprise, jumping. It took her a moment to remember where she was, in the plush bedroom, aboard The TARDIS. "Are you alright?"

She rubbed her face, shuffing her hair from her eyes. She yawned deeply. Her rest had been restless, and filled with nightmares, once again. She couldn't understand why, it wasn't like she had seen anything disgusting or traumatic lately.

"Just a bad dream," she waved off. She finally looked at her Time Lord friend. He sat on the edge of her bed, one leg crossed over the other.

He had changed his clothes, or, rather, added to them. He wore his black jumper still, zipped up. His waist coat was over top of it, open. He matched it with a pair of checkered, drainpipe pants, and his signature boots.

"Did you sleep?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"I did. I feel better," she lied. She was still exhausted. It wasn't for him to worry about, he had enough on his mind.

"I'm glad," he reached out, tracing his hand down her arm. His eyes stared down into the covers, his smile vanishing. He looked so... sad.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" she asked, leaning down to catch his gaze. He looked up, smiling. His smile was tired, and perhaps a sweet lie.

"I'm alright Sarah," the Scottish Time Lord nodded, "I thought I would wake you, we're about to land."

"Do you know where we're going?" she didn't even want to guess at this point. The last pair of places had been so out of left field, she didn't even want to attempt to imagine it. People said the imagination was usually worse than reality. Those people had never travelled with The Doctor.

"Kallamorvis." he sighed. She didn't need to ask, he had started explaining it already. "It was a prison planet, where Davros kept captured Time Lords during the War." A chill ran through her. There weren't enough Daleks already recently...

"I shut it down during the war. They started calling me The Oncoming Storm that day..." his eyes were on her but they looked though her. He shook his head, and refocused on her. "The final piece is there. It seems I picked the worst places when I hid them."

"Maybe it was for good reason. Only one ended up found by anyone, but a Time Lord," she could see he was being too hard on himself.

"Regardless... I'm sorry," he apologized, "I've put you in so much danger over the last few days. Our vacation hasn't gone according to plan. I've asked too much of you." She shook her head, gripping one of his hands.

"I wouldn't choose to be anywhere else. You need someone, and I'm honored to be that someone." She tried to reassure him. He was quiet from a few moments, his eyes searching her face for something. She wondered what that something was.

"Can you do me a favor, Sarah?" he finally asked her.

"Anything," she nodded.

"If... if this is it. If this is the end... for me... get your children, and go with The Corsair. She'll take you. I know she will." She cocked her head, and smiled at him.

"This isn't the end for you, Doctor. Morbius wont win."

"Maybe..." he trailed, "but if it is... promise me." He was firm in his voice. Was he really so afraid? She knew better. He was going to stop Morbius.

"I promise," she nodded, but added, "I know I wont have to." He smiled at her, patting her hand gently, then stood up. He adjusted his coat, and his sleeves, brushing himself off.

"Dress warmly. Kallamorvis is nearly a constant freezing blizzard." She shook her head, and he smiled. "I'll try, and put my dangerous artifacts somewhere nice next time." He gave her a single, lingering look, before leaving. She got up, to dress. She tried to put her troubling dream from her head. There was too much on the line to dwell on dreams.

* * *

The Doctor walked cautiously around the console room, his hand tracing the railings. He had seen Kallamorvis in The Corsair's memory. He had seen himself fall. He had seen a universe engulfed in darkness.

He didn't want to see it again. He couldn't allow it to happen. He could not die here. Not with The Great Intelligence slowly moving closer to the destruction of everything.

He had made her promise. He made Sarah Jane promise to go with The Corsair. If he died, if the universe was destroyed, she would have a chance that way. A chance to start again. A chance to live. So would have her children, Luke and Sky. Thar was important. She didn't need to die, as all the Sarah's had. Not his Sarah Jane.

Jack finally looked up from tinkering with his Villengard Special, looking at him. His face was blank, but his thoughts were not, The Doctor guaranteed.

He had told Jack what he experienced with The Corsair. That she had told him the truth. That his loyalty was not misplaced. That they were returning to Kallamorvis.

Yet, he perpetuated her lie. She had lied that he had regenerated, and failed in those other worlds, when he had only died. She was right. He needed to carry on hope. She was right. He was not going to steal that from him.

"Have you thought of not even stepping foot there?" Jack suddenly asked, "not even going into that tower." The snorted.

"And just let Morbius build the gun? Come on Jack," the very suggestion was an insult.

"No, no," he waved off, "I mean... what if you just sat this one out. Let us do it," Jack sucked in his lower lip nervously.

"I'm not discussing this, Jack," The Doctor shut him down. He was not about to let others fight his battle for him. He had never done that, and he wasn't about to start.

"Just hear me out!" Jack nagged, "there's me, and The Corsair, and Charles. Even Sarah, if you'll let her. We can take care of Morbius. You don't need to be there."

"Absolutely not, Jack," he reinforced.

"But if it means you're survival... maybe we can change everything." He countered.

The Doctor understood what he was trying to do. If he wasn't there, then he couldn't die. If everything hinged on him, and if he survived...

"The answer is no, Jack. I'm coming," he finally turned to the Time Agent, stopping, "I will not ask you, or The Corsair, or Charles, or anyone, to do anything I would not do myself." He replied, "no one fights my battles for me."

"Not even if it is for the greater good?" Jack took a step forward, "what if, by staying behind this time," he held up his finger, "This. One. Time. If it will allow you to save everyone. Wouldn't it be worth it?" He made a fair point.

A fair point that everything inside The Doctor rejected.

"The day I stop defending people, the day I start letting others do the fighting for me, while I cower, in fear..." he pointed to Jack, intensely, "that's the day I am no longer allowed to call myself The Doctor. I lose the right. The privilege."

"It isn't cowardice... not if it's for the right reason," Jack replied quietly.

"Doing the wrong thing for the right reason is still the wrong thing. I would know, I've done it more often than I want to admit," he leaned his back against the railings. He rubbed his forehead, then covered his mouth for a moment.

"The Corsair thinks that I'm the key... I realize that..." his eyes were distant in thought.

"Can you blame her? She says The Great Intelligence is unstoppable without you. She can slow him, but never stop him."

"I'm not the key to stopping him... she's wrong," he replied, "if I survive, but the rest of you all die... it will end the same way. It's not just me. It's me, and her, and you, and Sarah, maybe even Charles. One man can't defeat him. That's been her mistake for most of her lives. She tried to do it alone once I died."

"This version of her... this one realized she needed help. She went, and found you, an anomaly that is specific to this universe. You were safe. You can't die. She still doesn't fully understand the scope of it. It isn't just you, or me, or her. It's all of us. We fight together, or we die alone."

Jack stared for a moment, then picked up his pistol, putting it in his pocket. He nodded once, then twice.

"You still have a flare for speeches..." he smirked. He walked over next to him, and pressed his back to the rail. "Do you think we can win?" The Doctor shrugged. He truly didn't know. He never did. He had every compunction to try.

"I'll give every life I have left, and then some, if that's what it takes," The Scottish Time Lord replied.

"She says we're doomed if you regenerate," Jack nodded.

"She doesn't know that for sure," The Doctor countered.

"Because she lied, and hasn't seen a future you, "Jack cocked his eyebrow, "I'm not just a pretty face you know."

"When did you put that together?" The Doctor smirked.

"When she tried to convince me you're the only you, out of every you, that can stop The Great Intelligence, and what makes you different from the others. That's not true," Jack nodded, "I don't think it matters if it's the first you, or the twentieth. If there's breath in your lungs, you'll find a way to stop him." The old Time Lord was flattered in an odd way. Yet, his faith in him made him uncomfortable.

He was only one man, after all. He was a Time Lord, yes. He was also a professional meddler. He did his best to save people, no matter what the cost.

He wasn't a hero. Not the way Jack described him.

"You put too much faith in an old man, Jack," he replied, finally walking back to his console.

"Do I? Or do you just not have enough?" Jack answered. The Doctor had no answer for him. They were about to land, any moment now. The nerves were setting in. He tried to beat them back. They still prickled him.

"You still really don't see it... do you?" Jack snickered behind him.

"See what?" The Doctor replied, half wondering what he was blathering about this time.

"That it doesn't matter when, or who, you are. You are always The Doctor. And you are always a hero." The Doctor was about to counter, when the thick thud interrupted them, mercifully. The warping ground to a stop, and only silence. He stared at the door for a mere, few seconds. He wondered if this was the last time he was going to walk out that door.

"Did we land?" He heard Sarah call loudly, as she rushed into the console room. She now wore her dark, brown, leather coat, and a pair of dark blue jeans. She had a short, multi-color scarf around her neck. It reminded him of one he once possessed.

"Indeed, we have," The Doctor greeted. He so much wanted her to stay behind. To just stay here. Just as Jack wanted him to stay. Unfortunately, she had learned how to be stubborn from the best.

He tried to justify it. She was Sarah Jane. She had defeated the Slatheens, and The Bane. She had stood down Davros in defiance. She saved Harry Sullivan from the Zygons. She was strong. She was tough. She was a hero... more than he could ever be. She would be fine.

Yet, the whole point of friendship was to have someone to worry for, was it not?"

He was about to speak, when an unmistakable, wooden, rapping upon the door interrupted him.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock. Four knocks. Just as The Trickster had said to him, in the vision. Four knocks. Always four knocks. His eyes looked to the door, then back at his companions. Jack nodded a single time, confidently. Sarah Jane smiled reassuringly. He slowly walked to the door, unsure what, or who he would find outside. He opened the TARDIS door with a creak.

He was immediately met by a blast of cold air, and a swirl of snow. Standing in it was the female, curly-haired figure of The Corsair, a worried look on her youthful face.

"Yes, hello, Huston, we may have a problem," she spat quickly, her giving him a wide eyed look.

"What sort of problem? Scale of one to ten, one being 'oops Charles ate some batteries,' ten being, 'the Pope just read my browser history," The Doctor chattered.

"Twelve," The redhead replied, motioning with her eyes, "you better have a look."

Screwdriver in hand, he stepped out of the TARDIS, into the frozen wasteland. His boots crunched into the snow as the constant blizzard whipped around him.

He noticed the shimmering column around thirty feet to his left, only visible as the flecks of snow fluttered into it, melting instantly. Invisibility only worked when a TARDIS was in clear weather.

Charles stood outside of it. He had donned a grey wool coat, and knit hat to match. He held his Tinitrus in one hand, and adjusted his thick glasses with the other. He stared up, at the tower ahead.

The Corsair stared in the same direction. She now wore a dark blue hoodie, with a medical crest on the front. Her kilt was still present, though she now wore leggings beneath it. She carried a cobalt colored gun in her hands, with a tube of glowing yellow. Villengard Company, he guessed.

He looked out across the landscape, finding the prison standing in the stark distance. The tower was built of hundreds of disks, now rusting in the constant frost. It rose up infinitely into the sky, until it reached it's peak. A massive hole at the apex gave it a Dalek, cycloptic look. He remembered making that hole, in the mass break out, centuries ago.

Sitting beside it, nearly identical in size, was the great obelisk. It's green, time lord symbols glowed brightly through the snow. The snarling statue, or the triumphant Morbius seemed to glare down on them. He was here. He was alive.

What was above it; that gave him pause. The skies were filled by the yellow, spiraling, lights. The massive saucer eclipsed the skies, casting a black shadow across the snow field beneath it. Davros' Eye. The Dalek capital ship.

Near by, was a second ship, nearly just as large. It's shape reminded him of a massive wheel; a center ball connected to ten massive arms. All of them were connected in that same wheel, which spun menacingly as it floated in the sky. It reminded The Doctor of a Cyberman ship, but it was different somehow. It was missing the cylindrical body protruding from the center.

Dalek battle platforms zoomed around in the skies above like angry insects. They engaged other ships, these shaped like triangular spikes. Red, and teal lasers filled the skies like lightning, some spiraling into the snow in flames. The two larger ships fired their own weapons, shaking the earth beneath their feet.

"We may have changed things too much..." The Corsair trailed off. The Doctor hadn't seen this in her memories of Kallamorvis. That meant she had never seen this.

Jack and Sarah Jane walked out of the TARDIS behind him. He heard Jack curse under his breath, and Sarah Jane gasp. No one had expected a war zone. Not like this.

"What is that other ship?" Jack asked The Corsair.

"The Omega. That's the Great Intelligence's flagship." She answered, her eyes not moving from the skies.

"Why are they here? Why is this different?" The Doctor questioned.

"This battle always happens, just not here. I think they're all after the Epoch Lens this time, but they all ended up here now, because it's the only available point in the timeline. It jump started a fight already destined to happen..." she trailed off.

"The dangers of foreknowledge," The Doctor commented.

"It's begun then..." The Corsair's voice trembled, in just the slightest way that one may think she was merely cold, "this is the first battle of the Heretic War."


	24. The Uncommon Tear

_(Author's Note: Alright, so this is indeed the final chapter of Rise of Morbius. There will be another note at the end. I ask that you read it, especially before you guys start yelling at me. Please, enjoy. This one is a rough ride, and probably the most difficult chapter I have written in a long, long time.)_

The clouds above thundered with flame and lights as the Dalek ships engaged their enemies. The horizon was alight with the flames of war. The ships spiraled in, and around each other, crashing down into the fluffy snow in trails of black. The ice beneath them shuddered, and quaked with the rage of war.

The Doctor did as he always did. The Doctor ran. The snow crunched beneath his boots, as he tore across the snowy field. His screwdriver was clutched in his frozen hand, his knuckles white. He ran toward hell. What may be his death.

Sarah Jane was close behind him, and The Corsair to his left. She gripped her cobalt rifle tightly while she ran, keeping stride with him. Jack, and Charles brought up the rear.

A long, spike ship spun overhead, whooshing by, engulfed in flames. The Dalek battle platform pursued, eager for the kill. Another followed, it's scream of extermination echoing though the sky.

The surface shook as Davro's Eye fired, it's enormous laser screaming into the enemy ship. A deafening crack whipped through the sky as The Omega's shielding failed. Fiery beams cut through one of it's spokes. It's end remained severed, and blackened, bouts of fire spreading across it. Debris rained down like the snow.

The Omega was hardly finished. Electric energy crackled across the center, chaining across the spokes. The energy suddenly receded.

The deep "whump" reverberated through the storm, sending a shockwave across the ground. The Doctor stumbled, nearly falling. He felt Sarah Jane grab his back for stability, and The Corsair slide to her knees, quickly skittering back up. The massive, crackling ball of energy sheared along the edge of The Dalek saucer, in an ear splitting explosion.

When The Doctor looked up again, he saw the entire side was torn open. It was like someone had ripped open a can, the metal jagged, the ship exposed. Fire ruptured from within, enormous sparks flying into the sky, like a storm all it's own. The ship wobbled on it's axis.

Then the lights flashed, and spun all the faster, as it prepared to return fire. The Daleks would not submit to defeat so easily. They were war incarnate.

They had nearly reached the prison tower as they laser screeched again, cutting a blackened trail across the enemy vessel. Ships, and platforms careened from the skies in great, flaming wrecks as the battle above intensified. They needed to get inside, quickly.

Then he saw them, emerging from the door way ahead. He recognized the light-bulb like head, and the skeletal body. The Spoonheads rushed out, three of them, wrist guns pointed in their direction.

Sarah Jane was the first to strike, her screwdriver warbling deeply behind him. He saw the gun malfunction in a cloud of sparks. He pointed his own tool at the left most robot, depressing his button. He watched it's face lights blink, and it flailed, attempting to find a target amid jammed scanners. The final Spoonhead managed to crack off a single shot, missing the Time Lady wide.

The Corsair was quick, and deadly. She shouldered her gun, stopping her run only long enough to fire a single, well-placed shot. Her aim was true, shattering the robot's bulb head.

Jack managed to fire once, his laser blasting off one of the spindle legs of the rightmost Spoonhead. It landed with a dull thunk, yet it still was operational. It's hand raised from the snow, electricity gathering in it's silver palm.

The Doctor stumbled as it shot past his head, barely missing Sarah Jane as well. Jack fired one final time, putting a final, sizzling hole in it's back.

The final robot's lights finally returned, but it never had the chance to fire. In an explosion of teal lights, it was shot down, the laser coming from inside. Only one creature used bolts like that.

They reached the entrance of the tower, the sounds of battle echoing from within. The rusted tower echoed at the slightest of sounds, let alone the sounds of battle. Most prominent were the Daleks, their shrill, murderous voices signaling their one, and only battle cry.

The Doctor put his back against the doorway, with Sarah Jane right next to him. Jack was next to her, catching his breath. On the opposite side of the doorway were The Corsair, and Charles. She shot him a reassuring nod, and he returned it. They were almost there. They just needed to reach the top.

Morbius was there. He knew that. He would very likely have the gun assembled, and would be waiting for him. He knew he would come. With the other barrel gone, the gun would only function partially. It would still probably fire. They would need to act with caution.

No one could get hit by that gun. Not he, or Jack, nor Sarah, Charles, or The Corsair. Non-existence was far different from death. It was a fate far worse.

He couldn't let any of the others have it. The Daleks, Morbius, The Great Intelligence... they would use it for terrible things. They would make themselves all powerful with it. They would have full power over life, and death. No one could be allowed that. No one.

He peered quietly around the corner, careful not to expose himself. He wasn't just going to run in like a fool.

The bottom, rusted floor was littered with the refuse of battle. Spoonheads were obviously the main force here, as their numbers were the majority. They lay in broken piles, shattered from the brutal combat. The tangle of skeletal limbs nearly made a second floor.

Spoonheads were not the only bodies among the dead. The Doctor could make out a few humanoid forms beneath. Their stitched skin, and copper metal revealed them to be The Ravaged. It looked as though they didn't stand a chance in the combat.

A pair of destroyed Daleks sat near the opposite wall. One's head was utterly destroyed, while another had a scorched hole in it's torso, the squid creature inside fully visible, and very dead. Two ape-like Ogron grunts lay near by, one slumped against the wall, the other dead at the base of it's Dalek master.

A pair of staircases wound their way up opposite sides of the tower. The Doctor knew both led up to the very top, the Dalek council chamber. The chamber where Davros would interrogate Time Lords in a spectacle of torture, and pain.

Retractable, iron floors created landings all the way up. The Doctor remembered how they would slide in, and out of the walls, leaving the Time Lord prisoner's no ability to escape. Not unless they wanted to drop down to a floor six stories down. The floors were only extended when the Daleks wanted to move the prisoners. As of now, those floors only served as a battle ground.

"It looks so different," Jack commented.

"The time line is still intact," The Corsair murmured back, "that future might not even exist anymore."

He could hear the gunfire, and zaps of lasers up above. The electronic screams, screams only a Dalek could make, accentuated it.

It was the screaming Dalek that sat in the lobby that he was worried about. A single, silver Dalek sat in the middle of the carnage on the bottom floor. It's eye stalk was constantly moving, always scanning. It was waiting for the kill. All Daleks were.

He took a deep breath, holding onto his screwdriver tightly. There was only one way to go, if he wanted to catch Morbius. If Morbius was even still alive. For all he knew, he had been killed by the multitude of Daleks that now inhabited this place.

He came around the corner, despite a begging look from Sarah Jane. He had faced down the Daleks more than any other in the universe. He still feared them, but he was not going to let that stop him. Not today. Not ever.

"The Doctor is detected," it's shrill, electronic voice uttered. It's eye stalk swiveled onto him, it's gun doing the same.

Then, it's gun lowered, garnering a confused look from the Time Lord. It's utterance was just as confusing, something he thought he would never hear.

"Help us," it's voice was emotionless, in a way, but it somehow sounded mournful.

"What?!" The Scotsman took a step forward, holding up his screwdriver. It had to be a trick. A mistake. He couldn't have heard that right.

"We are dying. Help us," the floor shook as the Omega fired, drowning everything out as the Dalek ship was wounded again.

"Did you just ask me for help?" He took another step. He glanced back. Sarah was now tentatively stepping into the room, screwdriver up. The Corsair was just behind her.

It backed up, it's glowing eye upon him. He thought he saw it shake. That couldn't be. Daleks did not feel fear...

"Help us. We are dying," it repeated, then continued, "the Heretics are destroying us. You can stop them."

"The Heretic Code is spreading. Their losing themselves..." Sarah gasped. The Corsair nodded behind her, confirming it.

"What the hell right do you think you have?" Charles suddenly yelled, rushing up to where The Doctor stood. The Doctor held out his hand, holding him back, his eyes never leaving the creature in front of him. "You slaughter billions. Billions! And now you expect help? You deserve to die! All of you!" He raised his gun.

He clicked the trigger, but a loud warble stopped the shot. The Doctor managed a quick glance back. Sarah Jane's screwdriver was pointed at Charles. He almost smiled. He taught her so well.

"We will be exterminated, unless you help us." The Dalek continued.

"I'm with Charles on this one Doc, good riddance," Jack chimed in.

"They have a point," The Doctor now walked up to it, standing face to eye stalk, "you are killers. Murderers. Why should I help the creatures who killed my home, my people, my friends, and entire star systems."

"You will help us," It answered simplistically.

"That's an order, not a reason." He did not take orders from Daleks.

"Because you are The Doctor. You do not say no when you are asked to help," it reasoned, then made one final point, a word he didn't think Daleks knew, "you show mercy."

As he stared into that blue light, he was unsure of what to think. He hated them, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it. He hated everything they stood for. He remembered every dark night they kept him up. Every battle that they killed hundreds in. Every time he should have killed them. His fourth self who could have done them in with a cross of a wire. A regeneration who found the last Dalek in a vault, and tried to kill it, so hard.

What would he think of him? He would look down his beak nose at him, and adjust his leather coat in disdain. Shame, he would feel shame, for a man considering saving the Daleks.

Yet, he felt shame for him. Someone who was willing to happily murder a creature that was imprisoned. Who was willing to throw it's own word back at it, exterminate. He was full of anger. Hate. Something he tried to fight.

He hated them. They hated him. Now they were possibly fighting a losing battle, that could end in their conversion, or deaths.

They asked for his help. He was The Doctor. He did not say no when anyone, no matter who they were, asked him for help. Even a Dalek.

"Fine then..." he nodded slowly, "I will help you."

"Are you serious?!" Charles yelled. The Doctor turned around, the Mechromancer's eyes aflame with rage. "You are allying with them! Them!" He pointed. "You know better than anyone what they did!"

"I do..." the Scotsman replied, nodding, "but they asked for my help. And I will not say no, even to them."

"They would exterminate you in a second if you were in their place!" He was right. They would.

"That's what makes us different," replied the Time Lord, "they would. I won't. The Time War taught us a lot of things, Charles. Most of all, it taught us what we should never be. We need to be better than our enemies, not just like them."

"Being better makes you just dead," the jaded Mechromancer replied with a sneer.

"Many times," The Doctor nodded.

"Letting them die, or be overtaken... how many lives you could save..." Jack trailed. The Doctor once thought that. He was wrong then, too.

"Genocide by proxy is still genocide, Jack. It makes me no better than them, no matter the reason." The tower quaked as the laser fired from Davro's ship.

"It's has a tactical component to look at. The Great Intelligence's soldiers are already above, and Morbius. Do we really need Daleks trying to kill us at the same time?" The Corsair walked up next to Charles, and laid a single hand on his shoulder. "I hate them just as much as you do, but it's one less enemy to worry about."

"I can't believe this... they're your enemies!" He argued. Truthfully, he couldn't either. If someone had come, and told him he would actually try, and help the Daleks,when they needed him, he would have told them they were insane. His history with them was bloody. They didn't deserve his help. They probably deserved to be annihilated.

But, he wouldn't push them toward that, not if he could help it. He wasn't one of them. He wasn't blinded by hate.

He wasn't a good Dalek. Besides, they were fighting a common foe now. Just for right now. They would turn on him again. Right now though, they needed help.

"So were you, not long ago," The Doctor replied.

"But I'm not a Dalek."

"No, you aren't," The Doctor smiled. He pointed his screwdriver at Charles' gun. The whine signaled the gun switching back on. "So, make a choice. I'll let you. You want to kill it, be my guest. Decide who you are Charles. Are you the doctor you were," he pointed to the machine behind him, "or the monster they made you."

Charles did not answer, not right away. He stared at The Doctor, then the Dalek behind him. He raised his gun, aiming down the site. He stood there, for what felt like an eternity.

He lowered his gun, looking back at The old Doctor.

"Let's go, now. Before I realized how stupid this is." The Doctor felt a bit of pride for the Mechromancer, for only a moment.

"We'll take the other stairway," The Corsair grabbed Charles' arm, tugging him across the room. "You three take the other side."

"Stay alive," The Doctor replied.

"Only if you do," The red-head winked.

The Doctor ran. He ran up the stairs. He knew where he needed to go, and what he needed to do. This was the only chance to stop Morbius. To stop The Trickster. To stop The Great Intelligence from acquiring a weapon that would make him a God.

Sarah, and Jack behind him, he ran ever upwards, the winding stairs constantly circling the tower in an infinite spiral.

Every floor, every landing was the same. War, open war.

On one, the Spoonheads battled the Daleks, lasers, and screams flying in ever direction. On another, a group of Daleks were destroying one another in terrible combat, yells about heretics, and death drowning out nearly all other sounds.

At each landing, across the way, they could see Charles, and The Corsair keeping pace with them. This was good, he didn't want them to fall behind.

The iron prison shook as the Omega let loose again, and he heard it collide with the Dalek Control ship above. He had no idea how much more damage either could take at this juncture. It sounded like The Great Intelligence was winning this battle.

These were the Daleks however. Davros never just laid down.

Further, and further up they ran, passing floor after floor. Some were clear, only containing remains of combat. Others contained vicious battles, full scale war.

Then, an explosion ripped through the metal wall above them, rocking the entire building. Weather a Spoonhead ship, or Dalek battle platform, the flaming wreckage made it impossible to say. The Doctor found himself falling aside suddenly, landing painfully on one of the metal floors. He heard Sarah shout, hearing her slam down next to him.

As the dust, and smoke cleared, he looked up from his prone position. Before him stood four Spoonheads, their wrist mounted guns pointed down at him.

He heard Jack fire, but it wasn't forward. He was shooting down the stairwell. The Doctor couldn't see at what. Through the Spoonheads, he could see Charles was doing the same thing. There was another dead robot at his feet. They were coming up the stairs, from below. This was back.

A yellow laser beam flashed into the back of one of the Spoonheads, sending it crashing to the floor. The Corsair aimed at another, delivering it to the same fate.

The Doctor pointed his screwdriver at one of their assailants, disabling it's gun just before it fired. He saw another go blind as Sarah Jane acted, the pair skittering to their feet.

This gave the Corsair time to gun down the disabled robot. The Doctor grabbed Sarah's wrist, and yanked her away from the final, blind robot. It fired blindly anyway, nearly hitting Jack in the back. Jack was slowly backing up the stairs, as he reloaded his Villengard Special. The Doctor clambered back up onto the steps, some of them now crumbling beneath the force of the previous explosion.

He caught a glimpse of what Jack was firing at, down the steps. A contingency of steel Spoonheads were climbing the stairs after them. He could see the glowing blue lights, and the shine of the silver metal. They were the upgraded models.

One of Jack's laser shots hit true, injuring one of the rear troopers. It sparked, and stumbled up the stairs, unable to stand fully.

Then The Doctor saw it, come from behind it. The armor-clad, silver, cyborg, with the notorious handle shaped head. It violently smashed it's wounded inferior out of the way, pointing it's wrist at them. Even over the gunfire around them, he heard it.

"DELETE!"

"Jack, just run!" Sarah screamed. The Doctor drug her into a run up the steps, letting go only when she was following. Jack cracked off a last pair of shots, beneath an onslaught of lasers and lightning, before charging up with them. They needed to put as much distance between themselves, and the army beneath them as they could.

Not that up here was much better. Every floor was all out war. Daleks killed Daleks, Ravaged ineffectively shot at armored Cybermen, only to be killed themselves. The prison shook with each shot fired from the titans outside.

The Doctor stumbled to a stop as a Ravaged soldier came tumbling down the stairs, flailing down to the lower levels. A pair of spoonmen stood in in their way, guns pointed down at them.

Jack acted fast, his heat laser flying inches from The Doctor's head, exploding into the robot's glass face. The Doctor aimed his screwdriver, the other Spoonhead's gun exploding in a ball of fire, blowing it backwards. There was no time to be nice anymore.

Their troubles were far from over, as two more came down from the upper level. The Doctor juked onto the landing, Sarah's screwdriver blaring at their opponents.

A pair of Daleks sat on this platform, their guns aimed on he, and Sarah.

"You will be exterminated for the Great Intelligence!" one of them exalted, revealing themselves as Heretics.

Before the first could fire, a bright yellow laser flashed into it's back, it's shields flashing. That one turned around, to face the red-haired Time Lady, while the other fired. The Doctor ran, covering his head as he did, Dalek beams following his every step.

He heard the other explode with a scream, and dove floorward as shrapnel pelted his coat. One of it's teal beams of death shot over top of him. Then he heard the sparking, electrical crash; the explosion of a dying Dalek. The sound was unmistakable in it's violence. The Tinitrus.

He looked up, to see Charles standing before the fallen Dalek, shoulders heaving as he sucked in deep breaths. The creature was destroyed by the orange, lightning mace in his hands. The Doctor clambered to his feet quickly.

They had lingered too long. Now the Spoonheads, and Cybermen from below were catching up. Jack had backed further into the room, cracking off laser after laser as they relentlessly climbed the stairs. The Corsair was attempting to hold her ground, but she was hunched, slightly favoring her right side. She was a short time off of being stabbed. She shouldn't be here.

The Doctor's sonic screwdriver was alight, as he disabled Spoonhead after Spoonhead, their guns exploding, or their optics darkening. They needed to run, get up stairs.

Their exits were blocked. He saw The Corsair swinging her empty gun like a bat, with no time to reload. Charles was near, his robotic arm generating some kind of polarity shield. He stood in front of Sarah Jane. Underneath the rage, he was still a protector of the weak. Jack lay dead on the ground. He had managed to destroy one of the Cybermen, but it had shot him in the chest. Sarah frantically fired Jack's gun around the Mecromancer. There was no hope. This was their finial stand.

A pair of Cybermen rose up the steps. The Corsair screamed their arrival at the top of her lungs. The Doctor tried to disable them as fast as he could, giving her time to reload, running to her.

The pair of Time Lords stood down their foes beneath a storm of lightning, the whole tower quaking as the war outside intensified. He caught Jack standing up out of the corner of his eyes, Charles throwing him his own gun, as he swung a trail of death with his Tinitrus. They were getting overwhelmed. It was only a matter of time.

Then he would go down fighting. The Doctor knew it would always end this way, deep in his heart. He just wished he hadn't dragged so many others into it.

Then he watched head of the Cyberman before him explode in the color of teal. He heard them, as they hovered down from the upper level, something he thought would never save them.

"Exterminate!" The Daleks screamed as they flew in, guns barking death to any who opposed them. They were a true terror to behold, all ten of them, a single crimson prime leading them.

"Protect the Predator!" It commanded.

"The Predator must survive!" Answered another.

They were talking about him. He was the predator of which they spoke.

"Exterminate the Heretics," another cried. The Spoonheads, and the Cybermen could not stand against a tide of Daleks. This would be their only chance.

"Sarah! Run!" He yelled, then grabbed The Corsair by the wrist. She yanked her hand way, flinging a finial pair of shots down toward their enemies, before following him. He glanced over seeing Sarah Jane behind Jack, with Charles bringing up the rear, climbing the opposite stairs.

They ran, all of them, as fast upwards as they could, leaving behind the sounds of war below. Saved by the Daleks, intentionally. Who would have ever thought that could happen. He never did, after two thousand years.

They climbed further, and further up. They had nearly reached the top, when a new sound halted him in his tracks. The Doctor stopped, listening. Distant voices, arguing. They sounded as though they were the next floor above. He looked across, to the opposite stairwell. Jack cocked his head, and his eyebrows at him, in question.

The Doctor responded with a single finger to his lips. He nodded to him in reply. The Doctor crept up the stairs, as silently as he could. The voices became clearer as he moved up. He recognized the overly aggressive bluster of Morbius, first.

"I should be the one to do it. This task was mine, and I will finish it," his voice echoed.

"Give me the Epoch Lens. I will destroy The Time Lord with it. We will be unstoppable." He heard that high-born sneer. That belonged to one man, The Great Intelligence.

He continued up, so that he could see just onto the landing above, but so he was mostly hidden.

Morbius stood facing him, though he almost did not recognize him. His revolution-era coat was in tatters, torn asunder. The right side sleeve was gone. Jutting from it, was a new arm. It was covered in chitinus armor plates, and ended in a huge crab-like claw. The Doctor remembered that arm, from his old body on Karn. He could see a patch of reptile scales on his abdomen. It was obvious Sarah Jane had almost killed him; he had needed to replace his body parts.

In his good hand, he held the gun; the very weapon they had been trying to prevent him from getting all along. He gripped the Epoch Lens in his hand. He had assembled it the best he could, missing an important piece. The semi-hollow body was pulsing erratically, unable to properly filter the energy into one barrel. The gemstone was properly mounted on the top, painting whatever it was pointing at with a prismatic effect.

Purple energy leaked out of the hole where the top barrel should be. Normally, the energy would cascade from the top barrel as a waterfall, where it would conglomerate into the spear tip, creating the projectile.

With only the spear, the entire gun was glowing. To much energy was being put out by the body, and it couldn't regulate it without the top barrel. The gun would fire, but The Doctor guessed it would be destroyed in the process. The energy output was too great without the first barrel.

Ten Ravaged stood behind their leader. He wondered if they were the last of his army, armed with weapons that were primitive compared to the Daleks, Cybermen, and Spoonheads.

The Great Intelligence had his back to The Doctor, but his form was all too familiar. His victorian jacket swayed as he held out a single hand to Morbius, and his ever present top hat was on his head.

The Doctor believed it was merely another possessed Spoonhead, then he saw it, on his wrist. The bracelet covered in switches, and buttons. Jack's Vortex Manipulator, stolen from the Black Archive.

It was him. The real Great Intelligence, in the flesh. His ten Spoonhead guards were motionless next to him.

"No, this is mine! I deserve it!" Yelled Morbious. The Doctor noted now his scars now enveloped his entire torso, and his entire face, reaching around his bald head. He did not have much time left, if The Doctor's theory was correct.

"We are allies..." the man stopped, turning his head, in The Doctor's direction. He felt that feeling in his stomach. They were caught.

"Why don't you come up, and join us, Doctor?" The Great Intelligence grinned, "don't be shy, now."

He hesitated, but started moving up the steps, slowly. The Corsair grabbed his arm tightly. He looked back at her, her green eyes begging her not to walk into death.

It was his turn to take is hand away. He was The Doctor. He was not a coward. If it was his time, he was going to face it. He walked up the steps, and stood tall on the platform. The Corsair stood behind him, her gun ready. Sarah Jane was on the other side, with Jack next to her, Charles behind. Morbius' men had turned now, and were holding them at gun point. Jack and Sarah were doing the same.

The Great Intelligence's smug smile greeted him, his cold eyes on him. The Doctor gripped his screwdriver even tighter. He was afraid, even in bravery.

"It is nice to see that you have joined us, Doctor. I was worried you would die in the attempt. We couldn't have that, could we."

"I have no plans to die today, Doctor Simeon," the Scotsman growled back. Morbius said nothing, only eyed him. The Great Intelligence stood between them, perhaps intentionally, blocking Morbius' shot.

"No one ever really does, do they?" The Great Intelligence smirked back, "look around you. You cannot defeat me."

"That may be the case, but someone will," The Doctor replied, pointing to his chest, "maybe not me, or them," he pointed across the way, to Sarah Jane, Jack, and Charles, "but someone will."

"And why is that?" The Great Intelligence seemed amused.

"Because, you think your smarter than everyone else, and people hate that," he smiled, infuriatingly "and frankly, you're a liar. No one likes a liar. Isn't that right, Morbius?"

Morbius did not reply, only narrowed his glowing eyes, with The Great Intelligence doing the same.

"See? Not as smart as you think," The Doctor's eyes flashed, "or you would have noticed that Morbius is realizing you lied to him about a place, and his empire, and you're just going to kill him, and take the gun. Not to say I told you so, Voldemort, but..." he shrugged to the mutant Time Lord. He was practically boiling inside.

"I don't need him to kill you," The Great Intelligence smirked, "or his gun. You are in over your head, my friend."

"So are you. You're taking on the dream team. Two Time Lords, one Mechromancer, an indestructible secret agent, and Sarah Jane."

"Fire!" Morbius finially shouted. His soldiers turned about, firing on The Great Intelligence. He recoiled in surprise, and his Spoonheads returned fire.

The Intelligence held up his hand, a dark green shield rising from it, deflecting the Ravaged shots away from him. In his other fist, was a ball of electricity, and he sent it flying into the chest of one of Morbius' men. Bullets tore into the flimsy robots, knocking some of them dead in sparking piles of wires, and metal.

Jack was the first to fire from their side, his shot nearly taking off Morbius' head. Morbius darted for the stairs, ducking past the fire from the opposing Spoonheads. Two of the Ravaged fired on Jack, and Charles, pushing them back down the stairs. Their master ran up the steps, followed by a most of his soldiers. One was immediately shot in the back by the Great Intelligence's robots, flailing down the steps. The other, a hefty Sontaran, was shot dead by Sarah Jane as it was busy with the Spoonheads.

"I'm going after him!" The Corsair yelled, blowing one of the Spoonheads apart, before running to the steps. Another turned to face her, it's head lighting up to fire. The Doctor was faster, disabling it with the sonic. Charles finished it from the other side. She disappeared up the steps, five Spoonheads close behind her.

The Doctor darted past The Great Intelligence, disabling a Spoonhead that aimed at Sarah Jane. Her shot blew it's glass head apart as The Doctor reached her.

Jack eliminated the last Spoonhead remaining on this level, before charging up the steps, Charles close behind. The Ravaged that had not followed Morbius were dead on the floor. Now only The Doctor, and Sarah remained, side by side, in front of their adversary.

The former Doctor Simeon dropped his shield, annoyance etched onto his face. He stepped forward, hands clenched.

"I have had enough of..." he started. Much to The Doctor's shock, the whump of the Villengard Special interrupted him. Shock ran across the Intelligence's face as the blue laser hit him, flush in the jaw. The gun smoked in Sarah Jane's hands as he stumbled back, flailing about for a moment.

It looked as though he was going to fall to the ground, but he regained his footing, turning his head back toward them. Disbelief ran through The Doctor as he saw him, for what he truly was.

The left side of his face was destroyed, and peeled back like a rubber mask. Beneath the false flesh he could see the silver metal of a featureless face, with black holes for eyes, and the handle shapes rising to disappear into his hair line. Cyberman; he was a Cyberman.

Sarah gasped next to him, as The Doctor froze in place.

"You..." he stuttered, off of his pins. He had expected almost anything but not that, "you aren't.."

"Oh I most certainly am The Great Intelligence," the Cyberman spat back. The right side of his mouth still moved as he spoke, and his voice was still that of Doctor Simeon. "If that was what you were going to say. In every way."

"But..." he couldn't gather himself. This, he hadn't seen in The Corsair's memories. The building shook again as The Omega fired on the Daleks outside, and The Cyberman began to explain.

"After I jumped into your Time Stream, in your grave, I was scattered across your timeline. When you avoided your death, I would have been utterly destroyed, but I was able to hook myself into a particular memory, and gather enough pieces of myself in it, as that reality crumbled around me. The memory in this very building was my rebirth" he motioned with his hand.

"The Time War..." Sarah breathed. The Doctor could hear the lasers, and gunfire from upstairs. His friends were fighting. He needed to aid them.

"Yes. The Time War. I watched the violent affair in these walls, and was all that remained when you left. I was bodiless, the damage already done by my journey through your time scar, and in a nearly infantile form. I had no memories, no body, no power. It took me a millennium to regain enough of my former self, through absorbing the minds of the filth that passed through here, to finally escape this place. It took me another millennium, and millions of minds, to regain the consciousness I once possessed. I was no more than a parasite, unable to exert my will, only able to influence from the corners of ones mind."

"Eventually, I found the Cybermen, limping home from a battle, with you," he spit darkly, "our goals were the same. Order, and the death of the maniacal Time Lord called The Doctor."

"So you joined them? Are you mad?" The Doctor shot back.

"We reached an agreement. I needed a body, one more sturdy than that of the frail Doctor Simeon. They needed a new Cyber-Planner, one who could lead them to a final victory. One who would think, and see the things they were missing. They would leave my faculties intact, and I would bring about the Golden Age of the Cybermen.

"But you still needed a brain..." Sarah replied. She was correct, without a human brain, there could be no conversion. That was, in some cases, all a Cyberman needed.

"You could say my former associate Ms. Kizlet was kind enough to lend me hers," the right side of his face smiled. Ms. Kizlet, a woman who once helped him lure victims to him through a wi-fi connection. Her mind was nearly wiped by The Great Intelligence when he no longer needed her. He had now taken the rest of her life it seemed.

"You are no better than Morbius. You sold your soul for a body," Sarah replied, disgusted.

"A small price to pay for a universe in perfect balance."

"Somehow it always surprises me," The Doctor shook his head, "you have spent so much time with humans, studying them, absorbing their minds, seeing their thoughts, feelings, wants, needs... and you have still learned nothing!" He pointed this his hand. "How can that be?"

"I have seen them for what they truly are. War mongers. Killers. Liars. Rage, jealousy, anger, and hate rule them," The Great Intelligence shrugged.

"But there are other things! Kindness! Generosity! Mercy! Acts of selflessness! Did you truly see none of those? Or do you just ignore them?" The Doctor almost plead.

"The most powerful emotions are the former. There is no room in this galaxy for peace, and those too."

"For someone who's faculties are intact, you sure do sound like a Cyberman right now," The Doctor smirked disingenuously shaking his head. Whether he was corrupted by the Cybermen, or had always been this way, it did not matter. He was wrong, and he would never understand.

"It is time to end this folly Doctor. I have grown weary of this. You're time is finished, Doctor." The Doctor tried to stop him as his fingers sped across his Vortex Manipulator. Just as he would have grabbed him, he disappeared in a flash of white electricity, his hands only grabbing at the air. He whipped around. He knew where he was going.

"The gun! He's going for the gun!" The Doctor yelled to Sarah Jane. She was quickly behind him as he charged up the steps. The topmost floor was only a few levels up.

They were nearly to the top when they heard it, drowning out all other noise.

"EMERGENCY. EMERGENCY!" The Dalek broadcast screamed across the battlefield. It was the ship, calling to it's troops. "EMERGENCY TEMPORAL SHIFT IMMINANT!" The electric voice was filled with as much panic as a Dalek could be filled with.

"That's not good!" The Doctor shouted, rushing up the steps.

"What does that mean?" Sarah Jane yelled back, right on his tail.

"The Daleks are retreating through the Time Vortex!" He yelled back. What shape did that ship have to be in for them to run. They almost never ran.

The Doctor climbed the last stairwell, up into the top floor. This room was perfectly round, and featureless, but for a gaping hole in the opposite wall.

Outside that wall, he could see the war.. The Dalek ship hung tilted in the sky, wreathed in fire. Smoke poured from it, blackening the blizzard filled sky. It was no longer a saucer shape; nearly of a quarter of it lay in flames on the snow below. He did not even know if Davros' Eye could even survive a Temporal Shift.

The Omega was no better. Most of it's spoke-like extensions were sheared off, leaving behind only burning remnants. Only two were intact, leading down to the scorched center. The main vessels regurgitated toxic smoke.

What remained of the lights on the Dalek ship spun faster, as it charged up. In the blink of an eye, it seemed to stretch for a moment, before shooting off into the sky. With a blinding flash, it was gone. The Omega did the same, following it's wounded quarry through the Time Vortex.

This, however, was the least of his concerns, his attention instead on the scene he walked into. The battle that occurred here bad been brutal indeed. All but one Ravaged lay dead on the iron floor, and a solitary Spoonhead remained.

First, The Doctor spotted Jack, dead on the floor. He lay near the opening in the tower, electricity coursing across his body. Ahead of him lay the Epoch Lens, just in front of his outstretched hands. He had somehow gotten it away from Morbius. The Periphery Omega lay smashed and melted near by. Perhaps by Jack. Perhaps by another.

Behind him stood The Great Intelligence, the final Spoonhead at his side. He was Jack's killer, obviously. What was left of his face smiled.

He saw Morbius adjacent to the hole, in brutal combat with the Corsair. A black laser burn had scorched his abdomen, but he was still winning his fight. He held The Corsair in the air by her throat in his enormous crab claw. Her feet kicked, and her hands scraped at the chitinus flesh, to no avail.

But Charles was there, sending the final Ravaged flying with an electrical blast of his Tinitrus. He couldn't hit Morbius with out electrocuting The Corsair, so he did the next best thing, wrapping the metal bar around Morbius' neck from behind. He smashed his foot into the madman's back, yanking him backward in a deadly chokehold. Morbius dropped the Time Lady to the floor.

The Doctor, and Sarah Jane ran into the room as The Great Intelligence bent down to pick up the Epoch Lens. The Doctor aimed his sonic, but Sarah was faster, snapping off a shot at their cyborg foe.

He recoiled as the first shot hit his shoulder, sending him stumbling aside, his silver arm exposed. A second burned a hole in his chest, revealing the blue bulb beneath. He generated the opaque shield before the third hit, reflecting it into the ceiling above.

The Spoonhead behind him aimed it's wristgun at them, but The Doctor was faster. With an explosion of blue sparks, it was blown off it's feet as it tried to fire. He couldn't tell it it was dead, or stunned.

Morbius, meanwhile, backed up quickly, slamming Charles into the tower wall with his full weight. He bucked his head back, smacking Charles in the teeth. The Mechromancer lost his grip, and Morbius spun around.

Charles was ready for it, smashing him across the face with his robotic arm in a crushing hook. Morbius hit the floor like a sack of rocks. He lifted his Tinitrus to finish his grim work.

A searing beam went through his shoulder, knocking him into the wall with a pained yell. The Ravaged he had hit was back on it's feet, beaten but not dead.

The Doctor pushed Sarah Jane aside as The Great Intelligence returned fire, the lightning dancing across his palm firing her way. Another ball flew past his own shoulder, as he turned with his screwdriver held high.

Charles skittered aside as the Ravaged fired at him at him again. The Corsair came to his aid, grabbing her fallen gun, and returning fire. The Silurian mutant screamed as it fell to the ground. She started forward, on a run.

Her foot was caught by Morbius as he rose, flinging her to the ground. He rushed to his feet, kicking the gun from her grasp. It spiraled out of the hole in the wall as he stumbled toward the Epoch Lens. The Spoonhead had recovered from The Doctor's attack however, standing on it's skeletal legs, flinging plasma at the disturbed Time Lord.

The Doctor stood tall as he aimed his screwdriver at The Great Intelligence. An electrical shot whizzed past his right ear, it's path disrupted by his reversal of polarity. The warbling reached a fever pitch.

The Great Intelligence's shielding shattered like glass before him, just in time for Sarah Jane to fire. Her aim was true, and the blue bolt hit the Victorian Cyberman in the chest. It's blue chest-light shattered as he doubled over, golden liquid leaking from the wound.

He looked up one finial time, a sneer on his destroyed face, before his finger hit the button of his Vortex Manipulator. In a white flash, he was gone, just as Sarah's last shot passed through where he had just been. He was injured, but not dead. They could fix him. They had almost ended this. It was not the time to think on that, as Morbius had nearly reached the Epoch Lens. The Doctor ran toward it, attempting to beat him there.

His crab hand hooked itself around the neck of the Spoonhead, and with a whip-like crack, clicked shut, decapitating the robot in his way. The Corsair was just behind him, and dove on his back with a screech.

He was having none of it, and his human hand grabbed the back of her neck. He bent as far over as he could, flinging her viciously off of him. She hit hard on her back, grabbing her side in pain, curling in a ball. Her injury was too much at this point.

He spun about just as Charles reached him, catching the Mecromancer off guard. His foot connected with the mans jaw, knocking him down. He continued his manic run to the gun.

He, and The Doctor reached it at nearly the same time, but Morbius was faster, scooping it up into his good hand. The Doctor leapt back as he swung his crab claw, a blow that would have knocked him out. He staggered back as Morbius retreated, standing before the massive hole in the wall.

He aimed Epoch Lens at The Doctor, a mad smile plastered on his face. The Doctor instinctively raised his hands. There was nothing to be done. Sarah was out of ammo. The Screwdriver wouldn't affect that weapon. He was about to be erased.

Everything seemed to slow for him, as he stared at the purple, glowing, fire arm. Everything that he had done, everyone he had saved. It would all be gone. Fear finally gripped him, after all this time. Not like this. Anything but this.

The barbaric scream shocked him as Jack rose to his feet, rushing down Morbius. The Time Lord saw him just as Jack reached him, both arms tackling him around his pale waist. The pair started to fall from the tower, the Epoch Lens exploding in Morbius' hand as he pulled the trigger. The violet bullet spiraled wide to the left of The Doctor, his shot fouled up by Jack Harkness.

The Time Agent, and Morbius tumbled from sight, flailing from the wuthering heights, tumbling ever downward into the snow below. Both would be dead when they hit; of that there was no doubt. Morbius however, was not Jack Harkness. He wouldn't rise again.

Then The Doctor heard it, behind him; the timid voice from the left.

"Doctor..." Sarah Jane breathed. His stomach dropped as he turned around, and saw her.

Her fingers laced over a wound in her abdomen, violent sand leaking between her fingers.

"No! No no no no no!" He screamed as he ran to her, his eyes filling with tears. She collapsed as he reached her, and he caught her, kneeling.

"No!" He screamed again as the sand spread, leaking across the floor, rising up to her chest, and spreading down her legs. "I... I can fix... I can fix this!" He bellowed. He groped around for the sonic in panic, realizing he had dropped it when he saw her. No time to grab it. No time.

He could barely see her as tears blinded him, rushing down his cheeks in a waterfall, but he felt her raise her hand to his face. He could nearly make out her sad, pained smile on her face. This couldn't be. It couldn't be.

"Don't..." she wheezed, her body shaking in his arms, "don't be... alo..." Sarah Jane fell to dust in his arms, her last sentence disappearing along with what remained of her. The sand slid through his fingers, losing all shape and form, the purple glow of life fading into nothing.

It was said no one ever heard a scream like the one that The Doctor, a man who had faced down Demons, and Gods, who walked in wars, and watched the universe sputter into nothingness, uttered that day. It reached out into the cosmos with a strength that could wake the dead, and seemed to shake the very earth on which he kneeled.

All the while, he could feel his life slipping away, his time stream re-written. He tried to hold on to his memories of a woman who, now, never existed. A best friend who was never there to begin with. A love for someone who was a ghost in his mind.

Be had to remember. He needed to. He needed to remember his best friend Sarah Jane Smith.

He groped for her sonic screwdriver, the last vestige of the woman he loved so dearly. He gripped it in his hand so tightly he feared it would break. It was here. It was here because she had existed. She was real.

And he was going to fix her. He was going to find a way to fix her. Sarah Jane existed. She would exist again, come wind, or rain, or snow, or frost; whether he had to walk in hell, or high water he would find a way. Sarah Jane existed.

Sarah existed.

She existed.

 _(Author's Note: And thus, Rise of Morbius comes to a close. Yes, Sarah Jane has been erased with the Epoch Lens, but this is not the end. I feel I need to make that clear. The Doctor is going to attempt to find a way to fix what Morbius did._

 _This brings me to my next point of this note. I am going to begin work on the next story, a direct sequel to this one. I will be taking a short break between stories, mostly because I've been working on Rise of Morbius for over a year. It will not be too long of a wait however._

 _The next story, will be titled The Oblivion Engine. As I said, it will occur directly following the events of Rise of Morbius. I am also pleased to announce for the first time, that in addition to the current cast, another character will be joining The Doctor in his adventure to save Sarah Jane; One of his former selves. The Oblivion Engine will be a multi-Doctor event everyone. And I am excited._

 _The Great Intelligence is another point I wanted to touch on. In my stories, he bas always been inhabiting a Cyberman body. That was how he was able to shoot lighting from his fingers in Black Inertia, or why he was able to break into the Black Archive. His revelation of being reborn on Kallamorvis was also important to me. It hooked together his invasion of The Doctor's time scar and the events of The Harkness Files. The Corsair did realize he was born in that tower on Kallamorvis. She just did not realize it was a rebirth rather than where he originally began._

 _Last but not least, I would like to extend a few Thank-yous. First and foremost to MirricatBlackwood. I feel like without her this would have taken so much longer, and maybe it would not have been as good. I cannot count the ways she has helped me, and I can never thank her enough. Feline38 deserves just as much thanks. She listened to me drone for hours on end about this, and has helped me get my thoughts straight. These two ladies are amazing beyond words. A special thanks goes to BannerFanner, BurgundyHope, Dede42, and redstarsarc for constant support, and to DTKilbourn and DGonzo for being an inspiration._

 _Last but not least, thank You, all of you Outlaw Gentlemen and Shady Ladies, for reading. Mourn for Sarah Jane now perhaps, but do not loose hope. The Oblivion Engine awaits! I hope to see you all soon.)_


End file.
